


The Marshmallow Chronicles

by livingthroughchoices



Series: The Marshmallow Chronicles [2]
Category: The Royal Romance (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Some Chapters are NSFW, The Royal Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2019-07-24 00:08:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16169558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingthroughchoices/pseuds/livingthroughchoices
Summary: Riley comes back to court, but is Drake ready to see her?





	1. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riley comes back to court, but is Drake ready to see her?

A heavy weight oppressed Drake the day after Riley was escorted out, to the point that he found it difficult to get out of bed. Yesterday he’d been ready to spur into action, adrenaline coursing through him. Now that he knew she was safely back at the Beaumont’s estate, there was little he could do other than stew in his hot anger and the hangover-like cloud above his head.

He’d been awake all of ten minutes and had already spent over half of those staring at Riley’s name on his phone, his finger occasionally hovering over it. He shook his head and threw his phone to the side, where it bounced off the mattress and clattered to the floor. He groaned. Liam’s decision that nobody should contact her was a wise one, and he understood that  _intellectually_. His feelings however...

 _Ugh. Since when do I have feelings? Addams ruins everything._  

The thought of her believing that none of her friends cared, that  _he_  didn’t care, was nearly unbearable. For the first time since Riley had walked into his life – or rather, since he’d walked into hers – his jealousy was not directed at Liam, but at Maxwell. An intense ache flared inside him. How was it that it still surprised him how badly he wished he were the one comforting her, helping her? He’d only wished it about 96,000 times in the past 24 hours.

He stretched his arm towards the floor, avoiding getting out of bed, but in the end expending more effort than if he had. With a groan, he managed to reach his phone and text Maxwell.

_“How is she?”_

The answer came back almost immediately. The past day had taught him to be grateful for Maxwell’s quick texting back like never before.

“ _Since u asked a few hrs ago before going to bed? Still good lol"_

 _That’s so fucking vague! What does good even mean?!_ _I need to get outta here._

Try as he might, he couldn’t help going through last night’s events in his head one more time while he got dressed. It was almost like he was trying to find a way to blame himself. Was there something else he could have done? Surely not. He’d punched  _Bastien_ , for fuck’s sake!

Remembering the way Bastien had grabbed Riley made him want to punch him all over again, but he shoved that urge down; he’d only been doing his job, and if it hadn’t been Bastien, some other guard might have manhandled her worse. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to decide on a course of action. Normally he held grudges and damn, was he good at it. But Liam, always the voice of reason even as he, too, was fuming, had convinced him to go easy on Bastien.

 _Fine. I’ll apologize to him. If only to have_ something _to do._

It wasn’t hard to find the head of security if you knew roughly what his schedule was like; on a Sunday morning he would be at the range, training the newer additions to the guard. Although the range  _was_  relatively secluded, so as not to bother the palace’s inhabitants, the walk there seemed inordinately long to Drake. No matter how many plodding steps he took, it was like he wasn’t getting any closer. He did eventually make it, obviously, but he had too much time to dwell on the way, which significantly lowered his goodwill toward Bastien. 

He found him standing at the back, surveying his team. By now, Drake had half a mind to yell at him or at least give him the cold shoulder. Bastien appeared to sense his presence; he couldn’t have heard him through the protective headphones he was wearing. He turned to Drake, who hissed instinctively at the black eye his friend was sporting. He was back to feeling guilty.

Bastien grimaced yet, Drake noticed once again, he didn’t seem angry at him. Still, shame colored his cheeks and he shuffled his feet like a boy caught breaking something valuable. He gestured for Bastien to walk with him a ways off the range so they could hear each other. Giving him a short nod, Bastien went to one of his men and somehow communicated that he’d be back shortly, then followed Drake off the range.

Once their hearing was out of danger, Drake stopped and turned to Bastien, who took off his hearing protection. They spoke at the same time.

“How are you holding up?”

“Bastien, I’m s– Wait, what?”

“How are you?”

“I’m fine. Why would you ask that?”

“Come on, Drake. I know how much you cared about Lady Riley.”

The past tense hit Drake like Bastien had punched him back. He opened his mouth to correct him but cut himself off at the last moment, not knowing how much he should reveal to anyone about Riley’s circumstances right now. It went against every instinct to keep things from someone who was helpful in most situations, or at the very least a source of comfort for him.

“Right. I guess I’m still processing. But I actually came here to apologize.”

Bastien lifted a hand and brushed the bruise on his left eye. “Apology accepted.” He chuckled. “I taught you well; you have quite the right hook.”

Drake smiled back sheepishly. “That you did. Anyway, I know you were only doing your job and I shouldn’t–”

“Drake, it’s okay. It is I who should apologize. I hope you can see that I took no pleasure in escorting Lady Riley out.” Bastien put two reassuring hands on his shoulders. As he moved closer, Drake noticed for the first time how haggard he looked. Shadows accentuated the bags under his eyes and he could’ve sworn he saw more graying hairs than just a few weeks ago.

“All right, thanks, man.” He patted Bastien’s arm and gave him a tight-lipped smiled before stepping back. The older man took this as his cue and strode back to the range. 

The interaction left him feeling unsatisfied either way. His friend seemed sincere in his forgiveness, yet the guilt at the pit of Drake’s stomach refused to budge. He pondered what he could do not just to alleviate his conscience, but also to cheer Bastien up somehow. 

It hit him when he spotted Liam talking to Madeleine outside the palace. They’d talked about doing something thoughtful for Bastien some weeks back; in all the excitement and the whirlwind of his feelings he’d forgotten all about it. Bastien’s interests outside his job were something of a mystery to him, as being head of security for the royal family was quite literally a full time job, but he would figure something out. At least it was something to do. 

He spent the rest of the week alternating between agonizing over Riley and talking himself out of texting her, and planning something for Bastien. In the end, he’d decided to keep it simple. 

In trying to think of what Bastien enjoyed, Drake came to realize that part of the reason why he felt a kinship with him was that they had similar tastes. They were both men of few words who didn’t need bells and whistles and took pleasure in simple things.

Once he’d concluded that, it was much easier to plan. The former King and Queen would be on a diplomatic visit at Lady Kiara’s estate and would be taking some of the more experienced guards with them, so Bastien wouldn’t have to worry about them. Liam, on the other hand, would be within his sight the whole time, along with Drake, so that Bastien could focus on what really mattered: drinking.

Liam had provided the  _pièce de resistance_ : another bottle of the same expensive whiskey he’d given Drake for his birthday. They were not certain that Bastien was a whiskey man, but they hoped he would appreciate it regardless.  _In all fairness, who doesn’t like whiskey?_

Admittedly, this small gesture of appreciation was not  _only_ done out of affection for Bastien. After consulting with Liam, they had decided to tell Bastien that Riley was coming back and convince him to help them uncover the conspiracy. They had very few trustworthy resources at their disposal, meaning they had to take advantage of every single one.

Knowing Bastien’s aversion to surprises, which was an occupational hazard, they had to lay out what was happening a full day before. Predictably, he had many security-related objections that Drake and Liam had been ready to put to rest.

“Ta-da!” 

Drake opened the doors to one of the palace’s many unused sitting rooms the next day, revealing a small, unadorned sign spelling “Thank you, Bastien”, and not much else.

“Er, we’re not great at decorating,” he mumbled.

Bastien waved his comment away with a smile. “Nonsense. I like it.”

The bottle of whiskey stood on the coffee table along with three glasses. They sat down around it and Liam poured the drinks. 

He stretched his arm to the center, drink held aloft for a toast. “To Bastien, for all your hard work keeping us safe.” 

Drake brought his drink forward too, and added, “And for always being there for us.”

Liam nodded in agreement while Bastien shook his head dismissively, clinking his glass with the others anyway.

“Damn, Bastien, you’re drinking faster than I am!” said Drake his eyes on his friend’s already half-empty glass.

He shrugged and went in for another huge gulp.

They passed the time toasting everyone in the palace, including, much to Drake’s annoyance, Olivia. By the time they’d gotten round to her, Bastien had drunk close to twice as much whiskey as Drake, and seemed on his way to being well and truly drunk. Drake shot Liam a meaningful look.

He cleared his throat. “Bastien?”

“Yes, King Liam?” 

It shouldn’t have surprised Drake that Bastien would remember formalities even while drunk.

“We have something to tell you... in confidence.”

Bastien perked up at that. “Is everything all right?”

“Uh, were you here for the Coronation? Nothing’s ‘all right’!” snapped Drake.

Liam made a pacifying gesture with his hands. “What we mean, Bastien, is that we believe Lady Riley was set up. And we’re going to prove it.”

Bastien’s face was impassive. Of course, courtly intrigues were nothing new to him. “Oh. How?”

There was a nervous pause.

“Well... we don’t yet. That’s where  _you_  come in, we hoped,” explained Drake.

“Right. I  _am_  head of security. I will... help you as much as my position will allow.”

Drake shook Bastien’s shoulder. “We knew we could count on you!”

“Indeed,” agreed Liam. “This is great news, especially because Lady Riley will be coming back to court next week.”

“WHAT?!” exclaimed Drake and Bastien in unison.

Liam beamed. “I have discussed it with Madeleine and she has conceded to invite her to Fydelia for the first stop of the engagement tour. I figured it would be best for her to come back to court from the beginning and get the... unpleasantness over with.”

Drake felt catatonic. “Addams is coming back  _next week_? And you hadn’t told me?”

Liam frowned confusedly. Through his daze, Drake vaguely remembered them settling on that date earlier in the week. He just hadn’t realized it was  _so soon_. His heart had leaped to his throat and was pounding there as a huge grin spread across his face.

Bastien and Liam were engrossed in their own conversation.

“Don’t you think that is... risky, Liam?”

“Of course I do! That is part of the reason why we chose to let you in on it, so you can look out for her. Her safety is our priority. However, we feel it’s important for her to be allowed the opportunity to clear her own name.”

“If you say so. I will be vigilant.” Bastien drained the last of the whiskey in his glass and swiped the bottle from the table. “Thank you two. This was very kind.”

He strode out of the room closing the door behind him with more force than was necessary.

“Huh. I guess he prefers drinking alone too.” Drake scratched his chin. 

“I suppose so. Still, I am glad we did this. He did look like he needed a break.”

“And what about you?”

Liam sighed. “I can’t say it’s been easy. Becoming King would have been hard with the right woman at my side, let alone with Madeleine... I should not speak ill of her but–”

“Liam, this is me you’re talking to. Nothing you say leaves this room.”

“She believes she was the obvious choice for Queen, but I think she is too cold and calculating to serve the people of Cordonia. This is not a job you can do without empathy.”

“That’s how I know  _you’ll_  be great.”

Liam let out a grim laugh. “Will I? I feel like all I’ve done so far this past week is obsess over Lady Riley...”

_That makes two of us._

Drake gulped down his drink before answering. “Dude, it’s been  _a week_. Do you really think people are gonna judge how good a King you are in a week?”

“I... suppose you’re right.”

“You suppose? You can be damn sure I’m right! Hell, if I’d known you were moping like this I would’ve organized something for you too.”

“That is not necessary. I should not even be drinking at the moment.”

Drake glanced at Liam’s glass, which still had a fair amount of whiskey in it. Come to think of it, he hadn’t noticed Liam refill it at any point.

“Why?”

“A King is always on duty.”

Drake snorted. “Aw, come on, Liam! Even you are not  _that_ uptight!”

Liam stared down into his glass. “I believe I do have a rather late start tomorrow...”

For once, Drake took a leaf out of Maxwell’s book and started chanting, “Do it, do it, do it!”

Liam drained his glass and made a valiant effort to keep from coughing. He spluttered for a few seconds before recovering. Then, his voice still raspy, he asked, “Do you think Riley will let me explain? About Madeleine?”

It was Drake’s turn to give a humorless laugh. Riley was the single most reasonable person he knew. He doubted this would even qualify as a bump on the road for Cordonia’s most adorable couple.

“Are you kidding? I’d be surprised if she hadn’t figured it out on her own already. And you could always ask Maxwell to tell her something.”

“Absolutely not. I want to talk to her in person. And we agreed not to mention her to Maxwell through texts either, remember?” He looked at Drake pointedly.

“Er, right. No texting. Well, you could always get her some flowers in case she’s not feeling very forgiving.”

He’d meant it half-jokingly; he doubted something as mundane as flowers would change Riley’s mind on something she was truly angry about. The woman could be as stubborn as... hell,  _more_  stubborn than him! Liam’s face however, instantly brightened.

“Yes! I’ll get her roses!”

Dread crawled up Drake’s throat. What if he’d actually helped them reconcile? 

 _Then that would be a good thing, asshole, because they_ should _be together._

The one thing he hadn’t missed during Riley’s absence was the way she made his brain tear itself apart with conflicting thoughts. This past week he’d been content to worry about her well-being; when she returned, it was back to torturing himself over the impossible fantasy of being with her, versus the excruciating reality of his best friend marrying her.

“Glad I could help,” he choked out, then stood up. “You should relax a little longer, no one’s gonna come looking for you. I’m gonna go for a ride.”

Liam raised his glass to him, acknowledging his suggestion. Drake could’ve bet everything he owned, though, that he would not stay there a second longer after he left. Liam really did always put duty first.

The next week went by painfully slowly. His body was constantly tingling with the anticipation of seeing her again. In an odd way, it was almost like he was enjoying the expectation; as long as he was in this limbo, he didn’t have to think about what the future held for any of them. He could simply delight in the prospect of seeing her again, her smile, her eyes, her body...

There were no suitable distractions to be found this time, and so he spent his days riding and training, with the same constant thought of Riley in his mind. Pestering Maxwell also took up a large amount of his time, and his friend was only too happy to text back. His phone was constantly bombarded now by gifs and memes accompanied by the crying laughing emoji. He actually didn’t mind, contrary to what the many annoyed emojis he sent in response made it seem like. It helped keep him sane for Maxwell to still be Maxwell.

A couple of days before the grand reunion, Hana arrived back in the palace. Drake had considered her a friend for some time now, yet he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her. Her presence was extremely soothing. She told them all about how ecstatic her parents had been to let her come back to court once Liam had teased the possibility of a good suitor. A little white lie, although to hear Hana tell it, you’d think she’d gotten away with a massive jewel heist.

As slowly as the week had gone by, when the time to depart for Fydelia came, the hours seemed to go by all at once. He was preparing his things one moment, in the limo the next, and being greeted by Madeleine’s parents right after.

Disoriented by his new surroundings and the fact that this day had finally come, he stumbled into the grand hall with even less than his usual elegance. He hadn’t even registered he’d bumped into someone until he heard, “Oh, _excuse-moi!”_

_Shit._

“Lady Kiara! It’s, er, nice to see you again.”

She had technically accepted his apology, but he could still sense some awkwardness between them, understandably.

“Hello, Drake. Likewise.”

The smile she gave him made him think that the awkwardness he’d picked up on was maybe one-sided. On his side, to be precise.

“Are you looking forward to the engagement tour? I believe it should be  _magnifique_! Even better than the social–”

She was cut off by shouts coming from the press and the sounds of cameras and flashes going off. Riley was here. Kiara’s jaw dropped. Penelope, who was standing next to her, gasped, “It’s Lady Riley!”

“ _Mon dieu!_ I can’t believe she’d dare show her face here...”

Drake whipped his head to stare at Kiara and threw her the dirtiest look he could muster. He muttered an excuse and moved off to the side, where he would have a better view. He finally caught a glimpse of her.

She was wearing an understated – yet formfitting, Drake couldn’t help noticing – black dress and her usual, dazzling smile. To see her now, you wouldn’t suspect that she’d been wrongfully humiliated in front of all of these people, some of whom she considered friends. He felt pride swell his chest at how strong she was, giving the press short and firm answers that were somehow still charming. He thought he saw her face fall for a split second when she turned from the press, but as soon as he blinked, she was back to beaming. 

_It’s not fair that she has to act like everything’s fine._

He ordered a drink as he watched her talk to Madeleine’s mother, and only then realized what the rest of the crowd was holding its breath for: her reunion with Liam. He felt sweat start to collect on his brow, the room suddenly stifling. Riley was already walking towards Madeleine; it was just a matter of Liam turning around.

_I can’t watch this._

He skipped dinner – a first for him – and went straight to his room, which, for better or for worse, was not next to Riley’s this time. He’d waited this long to see her, he could wait one more day, and then at least he could be sure that her smiles would be his and not Liam’s.


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drake and Riley finally reunite!

The night was spent brooding, which was not unusual for him. He had at least reached a conclusion, though: he had to be clear with Riley. After almost losing her, the thought of her slipping through his fingers without doing everything in his power to prevent that sickened him. He knew in his bones that she’d never choose him over Liam in this lifetime... Okay, so there was still a tiny, stupid part of him – a pinky finger bone,  _at most_  – that held on to a shred of hope. The point was, he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

There was just one small problem.

_Turns out, when you build walls for years you can’t just suddenly tear them down. Who would’ve thought._

_Other than every therapist ever?_

_Yeah, well. I’m sure having arguments with yourself is considered totally normal._

He’d never been a “cards on the table” type of guy. After all, if you show your hand, you show your weaknesses. Of which he had many. He had the emotional equivalent of a 2 and a 7... and maybe the instruction card thrown in for good measure.

_Hell, I didn’t even think I was playing._

He dragged a hand down his face and paced in his room, psyching himself up for more emotional labor than he’d done in years, possibly since his dad died.

“Okay... sooo Addams... Addams, Addams, Addams. How do I explain how I feel about you? How  _do_  I feel about you?”

That was an uncomfortable question to ask himself. Thankfully, he found that he could chalk it up to not wanting to scare her off by being overeager just as easily as he could blame it on his emotional immaturity. He chose the former.

_Alright, so we’re not going there yet. Maybe something more general?_

An exhausting 30 minutes later, he’d honed in on the cards he was willing to show at the moment. The gist of it was letting her know that his hat was in the ring, that the ball was on her court –  _What is it with me and game-related expressions today?_  – and that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Of course, for there to even be a court –  _or a ring? I’m gonna stop now_  – they had to find out who had framed Riley. She had to be free to make her choice, otherwise he’d always wonder. And what better place to investigate than the dragon’s lair?

_That goddamn ice queen had something to do with this. I’d bet all the whiskey in the world on it._

Spurred to action, he yanked the door open and walked decisively towards the stairs. He’d reached the half-landing by the time he realized he had no idea where he was going.

_Fuck. Where do I even start?_

Before he could have any other thought – which was just as well, the next one was probably going to be “ _fuck”_  again – he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. A polished servant came into view. Immaculate from head to toe, he was carrying fresh linens as ceremoniously as if they were the Queen’s jewels, and he wore the pompous facial expression to match.

He uttered a small, “Oh!” of surprise at seeing Drake just standing there.

“My apologies, my lord, I had been told everyone would be at the party. I can come back later if–”

Drake waved off his apologies. “Nah, it’s okay, I was just leaving.”

The servant bowed his head, which reminded Drake of something. “Oh, yeah, and I’m not a lord, so...”

The impeccable man seemed to take Drake’s casual denim shirt and old shoes in for the first time. His nostrils flared and he raised an eyebrow, then composed himself in a split second.

“Quite right. You must be Mr. Drake Walker, then.”

“Er, yeah. How did you–?”

“You are known to be His Royal Highness’s most trusted advisor,” he gave Drake a deferential nod.

“Uh, sure. Anyway, listen, have you heard of anything weird happening lately? Like a reporter being hired to take compromising pictures or a plot to–”

With a slightly raised voice, the man interrupted. “I assure you, my work keeps me too busy to listen to idle gossip. Good day,  _Mister_  Walker.” He strode off, nose in the air.

_Great._

Drake seemed to be uniquely qualified to be resented by both nobles and commoners, not quite a part of either world. The nobles looked down on him and thought him a freeloader. The commoners agreed, but they envied him for it.

In a huff, he stalked outside, looking for Bastien. He had a basic understanding of the security team’s rotations, so he only had to look in a couple of places before he found him.

“What’s got you stewing now?” Bastien said by way of greeting.

“I don’t  _stew,_  I  _sulk_. Big difference.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. So I ran into this snooty jerk – seriously, is that a requirement to work here? To be as insufferable as the boss? Anyway, I ran into him and decided to do a little detective work–”

“Oh. Oh no.”

"What do you mean, ‘oh no’?”

“I mean you have the tact of Maxwell at fancy parties.”

Drake’s mouth dropped open. “Take that back. Last year he ended up doing the worm to The Blue Danube.  _You. Take. That. Back._ ”

Bastien chuckled at the mental image that conjured. “Fine. You are a bit more tactful than that, but not much. At best, you are Maxwell at a funeral.”

“What! He gets the nervous giggles!”

Bastien shrugged, not backing down. Noticing Drake was about to yell some more, he asked, “So what did you say to him, anyway?”

“Oh, right.” 

Drake scratched the back of his neck. Now that he saw it through Bastien’s eyes, he could see how he was less than careful in his interrogation. He cleared his throat and mumbled, “I asked him whether he knew of any plots.”

“Sorry? I didn’t catch that.”

“I asked him whether he knew of any plots,” he repeated more clearly, though looking at the ground.

Bastien burst out laughing.

“And you expected him to answer that?  _And_  to be nice to you?” he asked between barks of laughter.

“I... Shut up. Stop laughing.”

With a final chuckle, Bastien quieted down.

“You’re not mad?”

Bastien’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why would I be mad?”

“Well...” proceeded Drake cautiously, “that’s not exactly how you trained me.”

“I should think not,” replied Bastien, seeming on the verge of laughter again. He sighed and shook it off. “But no, I’m not mad. I understand. You’re desperate.”

_Is it that obvious?_

Then again, Bastien  _had_  been the first one to see through him. 

“If I may give you some advice, though?”

“Of course, Bastien.”

“First, stop assuming everyone dislikes you for being a commoner; it's not true and more often that not has to do more with your demeanor th–”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Am I wrong?”

Drake glared at his shoes, so Bastien continued, “Second,  _try_  to be a bit more subtle?”

Drake gave a curt nod, his face burning. The one thing he’d done in the investigation and he’d fucked it all up. Bastien was right, he was desperate and desperation made him reckless.

_Don’t forget stupid._

“And lastly,” Something about his tone made Drake meet his eyes. The older man’s gaze was soft and affectionate, “don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Drake gave him a small sideways smile and another nod. Bastien clapped his back and left, presumably to check on his men.

He took the opportunity to look around the garden party for a glimpse of Riley. At first glance, he couldn’t see her. Steeling himself, he searched the crowd for Liam, already dreading the sight of them together. To his surprise, Liam was talking to Olivia.

_Huh. That’s like the third time I’ve been happy to see her recently. If I’m not careful I might end up only strongly disliking her instead of absolutely hating her._

“DRAAAKE!”

Someone barreled straight into him, almost knocking him off his feet. Two arms around him caught him and he pat Maxwell’s back, dazed. 

“Uh, hey, Maxwell.”

His friend finally let go of him, grinning like a madman.

“I missed you! How come you weren’t around yesterday?”

“Oh, yeah,  _so_  weird that I wouldn’t stick around for one of those boring noble parties I love so much.”

“Good point. Even _I_ have to admit, yesterday wasn’t much fun.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Well, there was kind of a hipp–uh, I mean, elephant in the room,” Maxwell explained. “What with everyone knowing Liam really wants to be with Riley and–”

“Yeah, I know, Maxwell, I was there for that part, okay?” snapped Drake.

Maxwell, for once, fell silent, a hurt look in his eyes.

Drake sighed. “Listen, man, I’m sorry. It’s been a tough few weeks. And by the way, thanks for keeping me in loop. I... um, missed you too.”

Maxwell’s face lit up like someone had just announced a breakdancing contest. “Did you just–?”

“Don’t push it.”

There was a brief pause.

Digging his toe into the dirt, Drake asked, in what he thought was a passable attempt at nonchalance, “Sooo... is Riley around?”

“Yeah. I just saw her head inside after Madeleine. I think she’s gonna confront her!”

 _So Addams and I seem to be on the same page. Madeleine is_ definitely _involved._

“Actually, Bertrand wanted to talk to her, so I’d better go.”

Maxwell made to leave, then turned back.

“Wanna come with?”

“Uh...” Drake hesitated.

On the one hand, every second he spent not seeing Riley knowing she was so close made him want to punch someone; on the other hand, did he really want their reunion to be witnessed by the Beaumonts? Or anyone, for that matter.

“No, thanks. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Maxwell clicked his tongue and gave him finger guns before leaving. Drake smiled dryly in return. 

The second Maxwell turned his back, his face fell. He couldn’t see any familiar faces and his usual standing around awkwardly wasn’t giving him any of the confidence he’d need to talk to Riley.

_Well, at least you know, no matter how badly it goes, it can’t be as bad as the conversation she’s having with Madeleine right now._

That gave him an idea. She’d probably had a stressful few days so why not help her unwind? He snuck away – although, did it really count as sneaking if no one was looking for you? – to the kitchen. 

None of the cooks or maids bothered him; they knew better than to question somebody from the party. For all they knew, he could be someone important. He smirked at that.

 _Yeah, right._  

He went into the pantry and quickly located graham crackers, marshmallows and chocolate. He put together a stash of all three and put it aside on the corner, where no one was likely to see it.

_There. Now after we talk we can have one of our moments in between._

_That’s if she even wants to spend time with you._

He shook that thought off. It didn’t matter, either way. The important thing would be for her to relax, if she wanted company that was just a bonus.

He reluctantly returned to the party for some more standing around. A waiter walked by and he raised his hand to flag him down, when he heard someone behind him.

“You look like you could use some company.”

“Hana!” he grinned at her. “Can’t say you’re wrong.”

Somehow, she’d already gotten them drinks, efficient as always.

She handed him a glass of champagne and he gave it a sip. For a few minutes, they stood in silence, taking in the different groups that had formed in the party, overhearing schmoozing, and flirting, and laughter. This was one of his favorite things about Hana: she appreciated silence like he did.

Ironically, as soon as he thought that, she broke it. 

“You aren’t drinking tonight.”

It was a statement but there was a question behind it. 

“Nah.”

He cast about for some other subject to distract her, and came up blank. He could feel her intent stare and thought about how much she’d confided in him throughout the social season.

_Remember how you wanted to tear some walls down? Well... here goes nothing._

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

“I... actually haven’t seen Riley yet.”

Hana’s mouth formed a surprised  _o_.

“Yeah, I know. I guess I didn’t feel ready yesterday or whatever. Anyway, I decided I need to talk to her.”

That was as far as he was willing to elaborate, but he knew Hana understood as he felt a soothing hand on his back and she looked at him with a kind smile.

He chuckled. “And it’s exactly the sort of thing I need liquid courage for, but at the same time I feel like drinking’s the last thing I should do, you know? Shit, I’m really not explaining this right, am I? I really hope I’m a little more eloquent when I...”

Hana giggled. “I’m sure you will be fine. But you should go now before you chi– er, change your mind.”

“Hana Lee, were you about to say chicken out?”

Hana covered her mouth but he could still hear her laughing. 

“I’m sorry! Riley’s Americanisms are rubbing off on me it seems.”

“Huh. Teased by Lady Hana, how the mighty have fallen.” He shook his head. “But you’re right, I wouldn’t wanna  _chicken out_.”

Still smiling, she said, “I should go talk to the other ladies, then. And Drake?” She squeezed his forearm and made eye contact, “Best of luck.”

He nodded, suddenly feeling nauseous. He stood around for what seemed like an eternity, holding his lukewarm champagne for the sake of having something to do with his hands. 

It was very fortunate he gave up on it and abandoned it on a table nearby, because otherwise he might not have been able to catch Riley when she walked into him.

She’d come out of the castle with her head down, pensive, and hadn’t looked where she was going. Not that he was complaining. It gave him a completely valid reason to touch her bare, freckly shoulders. Her head bumped into his chest and he caught a whiff of her floral perfume, which made him feel dizzy in the best way possible.

She let out a startled, “Oh, sorry!”

He steadied her and then held her at arms length. She finally registered his face and her eyes grew wide, along with her smile. He felt his face mirror hers. 

An embarrassing knot formed in his throat. He cleared it away and murmured, “Addams...”

He could’ve sworn her voice sounded choked up as well when she said, “Drake?”

After a beat, she looked down, seeing his warm hands still on her shoulders. Her cheeks immediately flushed and Drake’s own face felt hot. He dropped his hands as if he’d been shocked. 

Her red face quickly went from embarrassment to anger as she punched his arm. “Hey! Have you been avoiding me or something?”

_Shit. I should’ve known she’d notice._

He’d be lying if he said a part of him wasn’t rejoicing that she had not only noted his absence, but that she cared enough to be mad at him. Still, he felt bad, so he made a show of rubbing his arm, both to tease her and to show that she’d successfully gotten back at him. 

“Never. I just didn’t want to interrupt while you were in there mingling with all the nobles.” 

For once, he said the last part with no bite. It was a poor excuse anyway, and they both knew it.

Riley raised an eyebrow. “Believe me, with most of those conversations, I’d welcome and interruption or two.”

He thought of Madeleine and felt even guiltier. 

_You left her alone with that snake and for what? So you could think about your feelings?_

“Point taken. I’ll remember that for next time.” 

She finally smiled a little and he felt like he’d forgotten what genuine happiness was like until this moment. 

_Goddamn, I missed her..._

_Quick! Say something, you moron!_

“Honestly, it looked like you were holding your own just fine,” he said, remembering how composed she’d been with the press the day before. “Though I know it must be hard on you to be in there with everyone after everything that happened...” 

She looked down with a grimace and he felt the corners of his own mouth pulling down. He reached for her hand, then thought better of it and merely brushed her fingers.

“If there’s anything I can do to help... I want to do it.”

She looked at him; the grimace was gone, but there was something else, something a little sad and fragile. Her voice trembled almost imperceptibly as she asked, “Drake... What about us? I mean, you’ll help, but... is that all?”

He could scarcely have hoped for a better opening, yet he found the words couldn’t come; the most he could muster was, “Addams... you know how I feel about you.”

_I could definitely have used some liquid courage._

“Yeah...” The suggestion of a smile played on her lips, almost like she was afraid to let herself believe that. “So why don’t you take me away from all of this nonsense?”

She grabbed his hands. Hers were unexpectedly steady; he wished he could say the same.

His voice had a tinge of madness as he squeezed her hands and said, “Believe me, some part of me wants that... desperately.”

He let go of her hands and sighed.  _This is it. You have to tell her._

He lowered his voice to an intense whisper and stepped closer, a hand on her shoulder. “I want you, Addams. I want you bad.” 

She held her breath as he brushed a strand of her hair back. He stepped away, letting his hand fall. “But not like this.”

She was blushing again, but she didn’t let that distract her. “What do you mean?”

“This conspiracy... people plotting against you and Liam... it’s not right to ask you to decide right now.” He pleaded with her silently, hoping to make her understand: it had to be this way, for both their sakes. 

_Please don’t insist. There is no way I can resist you if you insist._

He continued, “If you wanted me over Liam...” 

As soon as he said it he felt his face catch on fire. It was such a ridiculous notion that he’d never dared said it out loud. He pushed through it, “I’m... I’m not sure I could believe it, even if there  _wasn’t_  anything hanging over you.”

Riley’s brows knitted. “Is it so hard to believe?” she asked softly.

Drake ran his fingers through his hair, unsure where to start, how much to share about himself. At this point she  _had_  to know he was insecure, but once she found out the extent, would he scare her away?

_No turning back now._

“My whole life, I’ve grown up in Prince Liam’s shadow. As a kid, he was the one that everyone served and adored,” he started with a smile. Things had been simpler back then; he hadn’t even minded as much. He, after all, had a whole, loving family. 

“When we were older, he was the one the noble girls chased after.” Bitterness bled into his voice then. There hadn’t been any one girl in particular, but his fragile teenage ego had definitely suffered. 

“Some part of me truly can’t believe that  _anyone_  could be interested in me at all when Liam is around.” His voice was now breaking and he considered aborting the mission right then and there, but he kept going; they were getting to what actually mattered now. 

“And definitely not someone like  _you_ , Addams.”

She opened her mouth to protest and he gestured for her to wait. 

“I’m not blind. Liam is  _literally_  offering you an entire kingdom.” He waved broadly at the castle and grounds around them. 

“I can’t compete with that. And if by some miracle, you do find that you want me and not him... I don’t want you to ever regret it,” he once again took her hands fervently. The most he could do was show her how sincere he was. 

“If you do choose me at the end of all this, I want to know it’s because you wanted me, and not because of this damned...  _thing_  keeping you from Liam.”

If there was one thing he knew he could not bear, it was being  _her_  second choice. He could handle everyone else in his life, but not  _her_. 

“Besides, if we were together publicly right now, it’d just cause an even bigger mess. We can’t hurt Liam like that. Not on top of everything else.”

He wasn’t going to hurt Liam over something he was sure would amount to nothing but a harmless fling. For her, that is. To him it would always be the best thing he could’ve had if he’d been somebody else, somebody better. He was giving her the chance to turn back and choose the life she deserved.

She squeezed his hand and he noticed her eyes looked shiny with tears. She shook her head.

“And we both know that you’d be a hell of a better queen than Madeleine.”

She chuckled at this and he smiled sadly. “Cordonia deserves you. Liam deserves you.” He let go of her hands, his voice more and more choked. “Me? I’m nobody. I’m never going to be good enough for someone like you.”

A tear spilled from her left eye, so quickly he would’ve missed it were he not an expert in all things Riley Addams by now. She spoke in a broken whisper, “Drake, don’t say that.”

He turned away and rubbed his face. “Hell, I’m sorry Addams. I’m always disappointing you, aren’t I?”

She touched his arm gently. “That’s not what I meant. This whole thing is a mess, isn’t it?”

“It is... but not because of you. Because of this conspiracy against you,” he hissed.

Riley’s eyes narrowed to slits. “When I catch whoever’s responsible for this...”

“Believe me, they’ll have a lot to answer to.”

She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t even know how many people are involved.”

He lifted her chin. “Hey, don’t get discouraged. You’ve got me, Maxwell, Bertrand, and Hana helping you, not to mention Liam. I know it might not have seemed like it right after the ball...” he trailed off, seeing the thunderous look on her face.

She crossed her arms. “Well... would it have killed you to text me?”

“No, but according to Liam, it might’ve killed  _you_. He takes your safety very seriously. We all do.” He took her arms and unraveled them. “You should’ve been with us that night, after the Coronation. Then you wouldn’t have any doubts.”

“You’ll have to tell me about it sometime.” 

It sounded almost like a threat. He laughed.

“Anytime.” He let a beat go by, so as to seem more spontaneous. “You look like you could use some cheering up.”

She nodded. He looked behind him as if just seeing the fire pit for the first time. 

“Hey, that would be perfect for making some s’mores. I bet I can raid the kitchen for supplies. I know you probably ate during the party, but if you want some dessert... you can’t beat homemade s’mores.” 

He fought to keep the embarrassing hope from his voice, to mixed results. “I’ll make you the best s’mores of your life and tell you all about everything you missed.”

Riley was grinning, “You’re lucky I love s’mores.”

This was, of course, a piece of Addams trivia that he’d learned a few weeks back, but there was no need for her to know how disturbingly good his memory was when it came to her.

“Glad to hear it, Addams. Wait over by the fire pit. I’ll be right back.”

He bounded back to the kitchen and grabbed the supplies he’d concealed. He walked back more slowly, enjoying the sight of Riley sitting calmly by the fire. At the risk of sounding like a stalker, he thought about how rare and beautiful it was to watch someone who thought they were alone. It was often their most vulnerable and authentic moment, in his opinion. 

Take Riley, for example. She wasn’t smiling, for once, and that made  _him_  smile. It’s not that she looked unhappy, she just didn’t have to put up the facade she often wore, especially these days.

Not that he lingered long. He knew he was intruding and didn’t want to be a creep, so after a few seconds he let his footsteps fall more firmly. Riley raised her head and waved.

“I see you’re warming up by the fire.”

“Of course.” Riley jumped up with a manic smile. “Now, where are the goods?”

He tossed her the bag, trying to catch her off guard, but of course he’d underestimated it. She caught it and ripped it open, sitting back down on a log bench.

He beamed. “Everything we need for a perfect night by the fire...” He sat down and scooted closer to her. “And a perfectly innocent reason for us to be out here together.”

“And not discussing courtly intrigue,” she winked. She grabbed two marshmallows from the bag and gave him one.

“Exactly.” He toasted their marshmallows. “Ready?”

She nodded with determination. They stood up and went in search of good marshmallow roasting sticks. Luckily, they seemed to have trimmed the trees recently so they had no trouble finding them.

Having returned to their seats – somehow they ended up sitting closer than before – Riley promptly speared her marshmallow and thrust it straight into the center of the fire, tilting her stick down. 

Drake snorted. “You’re going to burn it if you tilt it like that.”

“Are you the s’mores expert?” she poked his arm.

He pushed her back with his shoulder. “Damn right. I’ve made hundreds of these... My family and I used to go camping when I was a kid. I practically lived off s’mores.”

His eyes crinkled at the thought. He was completely absorbed in his memories, until Riley interrupted with the most unexpected request: “Tell me more about when you were little.”

His eyebrows shot up in shock, yet he couldn’t hide his delight. “You know how I like to get away from all the pomp of the palace? Well, one of those outlets was when I’d go camping with my dad. We’d disappear into the wilderness for days... Though, the first time we went camping was a disaster.” 

Riley looked at him questioningly. He continued, “After trekking through the woods for hours, neither of us could set up the tent correctly, and we had forgotten to pack our dinners. So we spend that night huddled under the stars by a small fire with nothing to eat but s’mores.” 

She giggled as he stared at the fire, enjoying its warmth and Riley’s. “But despite all that, we loved it. It was the one time he could really relax... when he didn’t have to worry about the King and his family, and he could just enjoy some time with us.”

“That sounds wonderful... and simple.” She leaned her head on his shoulder.

He rested his head on hers. “The best things in life usually are, Addams.”

They stayed like that for some time, just looking at the flames and relishing each other’s presence after being apart for what seemed like too long.

Little by little, the mouthwatering smell of roasted marshmallows filled the air. Drake, assessing his marshmallow, declared, “Looks like it’s time.”

They took their sticks out of the fire. Drake leaned his against the bench and bent down to get a couple of graham crackers and hold them out to Riley. She smeared her gooey marshmallow onto one of them, her face all lit up. Drake added the chocolate and pressed the other cracker on top.

“M’lady.” He handed it to Riley with a flourish and busied himself making his own.

Riley waited for him to finish, then signaled a countdown. When she put her last finger down, they bit into their s’mores at the same time.

“Delicious,” Riley mumbled, barely intelligible.

Drake replied, “I’m glad I didn’t disappoint,” his cheeks equally full.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Riley seemed to be entirely lost in her s’more, while Drake was having more difficulties concentrating. She kept getting chocolate on her lips and licking it off. His mouth was still watering even when he’d finished his.

Smacking her lips, Riley asked, “So you were going to tell me about what happened when I was dragged out of the Coronation?”

Relieved at having something else to think about, as his pants were getting uncomfortably tight, Drake explained, “Yeah. Let’s see... By the time I escaped security, your car was driving away. I ran after it... But I couldn’t get any closer than that.”

A small, warm hand enveloped his. “Aw... Drake... I didn’t know you did that.”

_And she doesn’t even know I almost jumped on the next plane to New York._

He shrugged, “Yeah, for all the good it did, anyway. And then I headed back to the palace to learn what the others saw... I found Liam and Hana in your room.”

He went over the events of that night, making sure to emphasize Liam’s concern for her and his plan to fix it, while downplaying his own frantic, panic-fueled pacing and ideas for courses of action. He couldn’t tell if it was working or not; her face was unreadable, although she cracked a smile when he described how Liam got Hana to stay. He did tell her about almost going after her, though. He couldn’t resist. He ended the story with Liam’s order not to contact her, making it clear once more that he did it for her own safety.

“... And that’s pretty much how it went down.”

“I never knew that you wanted to come after me.” Riley was rubbing small, soothing circles on his hand and looking at him in wonder.

He looked away. “Oh, well... yeah. I just wanted to make sure you’d be okay.”

“You were worried about me,” she said smugly.

He thought about teasing her, denying it, but the time was past for that sort of thing. “Honestly? I still am. Nobles have been  _assassinated_  in Cordonia, even those with a full security detail. I don’t know what I’d do if something like that happened to you.”

His eyes watered, possibly from the heat of the fire. She pretended not to see, eating the last of her s’more.

“Well. Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course. You deserve to know. And... I know none of you friends would want you thinking that we’d just forgotten about you.”

_I literally would not know how to do that if I wanted to. And that’s the problem isn’t it? I don’t even want to anymore._

“I... I know this must’ve been bad for you. I’m sorry.” 

He turned to her and she leaned in. “Drake...” The way she whispered his name alone could fuel so, so many inappropriate dreams. 

Her lips barely moving, she said, “A kiss would make me feel better.”

He swallowed. “Addams... We can’t.”

As was the rule with Riley, his mind was rebelling against itself. Part of it congratulating him on being a good friend and another, stronger and stupider part calling him an idiot. 

She pulled on the lapels of his shirt and grit her teeth. “But I want you right now.”

He couldn’t breathe. He groaned and tried to turn away, but she was holding him firm. Then again, he had to admit his attempt was halfhearted at best. He simply did not have the strength to fight her. Not when he’d missed her so much.

“Dammit, Addams,” he growled.

Uncaring, she pressed her lips to his roughly. He reciprocated almost immediately. For the first time, he was the one who deepened the kiss, who parted his lips and let his tongue touch hers.

“Drake...” she moaned.

_Fuck, that was sexy. And loud._

“ _Damn it...”_

He pulled away and looked over his shoulder around the dark grounds. They seemed to be alone. He didn’t know which was worse. 

“I want you, Addams. More than anything.” His voice was still thick with desire and he couldn’t help running his hands along her arms, making her shiver. “But I want this in the right way. For everyone involved. You most of all.”

He sighed and moved a few inches away from her on the bench, trying to get away from the heat between them, which rivaled the fire’s by now.

“Riley!”

The shout came from the direction of the castle and it startled them both to their feet.

Maxwell was coming towards them, waving. Drake took a step back from Riley.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Is it time to go?” she asked.

“Yeah... we’re all packed and ready, and you know how Bertrand gets when we’re running late,” Maxwell shuddered.

“No sense letting me keep you,” muttered Drake.

“We can give you a ride, Drake. The limo has plenty of space,” Maxwell offered.

Riley looked at him hopefully. He avoided her gaze.

“No thanks, I might die if I spend several hours in a car with you.”

He directed this at Maxwell, but it could just as easily have been meant for Riley. He could  _not_  be in close proximity to her right now. 

“See you around?” Riley was smiling up at him, biting her bottom lip as if she thought that was something he might not want.

He smirked. “Sure thing, Addams.”

Maxwell yelled, “It’s road trip time!” and seized Riley’s arm to punch the air.

Drake and Riley shared an amused look, before she and Maxwell left for the limo. Drake realized he’d been so focused on her all day, he’d completely forgotten about the trip.

_Well, shit. I hope they didn’t leave me behind._


	3. Return to Applewood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drake actually does something, for a change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's get the awkwardness out of the way: it's been like 6 months. I'm really sorry. I don't have anything better to say tbh, I was just feeling overwhelmed and it was hard to get back in the habit of writing. Idk if anyone will still read this, but I wanna thank everyone who sent encouraging messages, you're the reason I managed to come back at all, even if it took forever. Hope you like this chapter! xx<3

As it turned out, Bastien, whose continued crankiness baffled Drake, had come close to leaving him behind, but had waited at Liam’s insistence. Drake mumbled his thanks to his friend, unable to look him in the eye, having just spent the evening pouring his heart out to Liam’s future fiancée.

 _This guilt is gonna kill me… if the image of Addams in her underwear and the sound of her moaning my name doesn’t do it first._ His guilt was momentarily drowned by a powerful pang of desire.

He settled in for the long drive back to Applewood Manor, trying to suppress any thoughts of Addams being sexy; he could think of few things more awkward than getting a boner while sitting in a confined space with Bastien and Liam, of all people.

Unfortunately, he came to realize that not thinking about Addams was pretty much impossible, so he contented himself with directing his thoughts toward tamer grounds. He lost himself in the memory of dancing with her, of her wanting to stand around with him on his birthday, of her vulnerability when talking about her brother…

It was hard to pinpoint, but it was probably then that he started losing control of his thoughts and his brain decided to conjure images of things that had never happened, and would never happen. He and Riley were camping together, just the two of them; they were drinking at a bar, just the two of them; they were cooking together in a kitchen that seemed to be theirs. He bumped his head against the car window surreptitiously, as if trying to jolt the thoughts off his head.

The domesticity of the images perturbed him far more than any sexual fantasy would. Wanting Addams? Sure, he could deal with that. She was hot and he definitely wasn’t blind to that. But this craving of her company, not as a friend but as – he suppressed a shudder – a partner? That was way beyond the line.

“Drake?”

He was jerked away from his increasingly panicked reflections by Liam’s voice. He hoped his face wasn’t giving him away, although judging by the warmth spreading up from his neck to his face, he was hoping in vain. He rubbed his face roughly, trying to pass it off as sleepiness.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you would mind staying in the room next to Lady Riley’s again.”

“No!” Seeing Liam’s startled face, Drake made a second attempt at sounding more natural and less like a madman. “Er, I mean, I’d rather not because… uhh…”

“Ha, let me guess,” chimed in Bastien from the front seat, “you would rather stay next to Lady Kiara, eh?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Drake on the rearview mirror.

Drake opened his mouth to protest when he realized he was being given an out. He looked down at his hands, faking embarrassment. “Fine, yeah, that’s why.”

He thought he heard Bastien exhale sharply, but he couldn’t be sure as he was distracted by Liam elbowing him.

“So that is the reason! Well, you know me, I will not stand in the way of l’amour.”

Bastien snorted at this and despite his best efforts to keep a straight face, Liam cracked a smile at his own teasing. Then, sobering up, he added, “In all seriousness, though, I am happy for you Drake. I think you make a good couple.”

Excused from answering by his usual – and expected – grumpiness, Drake turned to the window, relieved and ashamed.

Once inside the Manor, he was pleased to verify that his room and Riley’s were on opposite sides of the spacious second floor. The pleasure, however, was short-lived as he almost immediately felt compelled to go look for her, to at least catch a glimpse of her before bed.

_Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage for one day, you idiot?_

Remembering Liam’s earnest good wishes for him stopped him in his tracks and sent him straight to bed.

He woke up unusually early the next morning, relishing a day spent outdoors, doing physical labor. Now this was his time to shine. All those pampered loyals couldn’t hold a candle to him when it came to barn raising. Even Liam, who was in excellent shape, was used to different, more refined exercise.

The kitchen, which he had expected to be deserted as he went to grab a quick breakfast, was occupied by Bertrand and a tall, well-groomed man who looked vaguely familiar. Bertrand seemed as surprised as Drake was at bumping into each other.

“Oh, uh, hey, Bertrand,” he said, forgetting the man’s honorific in his distracted state.

Other than a slight flaring of his nostrils, the noble gave no sign of offended dignity, choosing rather to greet Drake in his stiff, formal manner. “Good day, Mr. Walker.”

Noticing Drake’s glance at the other man, he added, “Excuse me, where are my manners! This is Justin Barrington, Lady Riley’s new communications agent.”

“It’s so great to meet you Mr. Walker. I’ve heard a lot about you” Justin said, offering his hand.

“It’s Drake,” he replied, feeling a strong aversion at the man’s unctuous demeanor and his weak handshake.

He turned to Bertrand. “Well, I should get going.” He grabbed the first things within reach in the pantry, which turned out to be an apple and a granola bar and stepped out with a brisk walk.

He ate his meager breakfast on the way to the construction site, planning to go back for a real meal once everyone else showed up to help. His mind was blissfully empty while he walked, enjoying the early morning breeze and the first, barely-there rays of sun on his skin. He figured he’d have at least a half hour or more to himself, which suited him fine. In fact, he knew he’d likely get more done in that time than most people would during the whole day. And without Riley around to distract him, he half believed he could raise a barn all on his own in record time.

For the second time that day, though, he was startled to find someone already there, only this time he broke into a smile as soon as he spotted who it was. Drake joined her sitting down, the long grass tickling his arms and his back resting against a damp rock.

“Well, well, well, fancy seeing you here. Don’t tell me you won some sort of barn raising award back home!” He was only half joking, but Hana giggled and shook her head.

“I don’t think there is such a thing, and even if there was, I am sure I would be no good at it.”

“That’s a first. So what are you doing here so early?”

“Nothing, really.”

Drake cocked his head, waiting for her to say more.

“I believe I…” Hana paused, searching for the words, “well, I only meant to go for a walk, but then I realized I could do whatever I wanted and I decided to extend my walk so I wouldn’t have to be escorted here later… That must have sounded like nonsense.”

“No, actually, I understand. We rarely get these moments of freedom, don’t we? If I feel cooped up in the palace sometimes, I can’t imagine what you go through as one of the suitors!”

Hana was smiling now, relieved he sympathized. “Oh, no! I usually feel quite at ease here; I was so much more guarded at home. I am mostly left to my own devices, except during events such as today’s. But still, I needed a respite.”

“I know what you mean.”

They sat, as they often did, in comfortable silence, until Drake felt Hana’s eyes on him.

“What is it?”

“Oh!” She blushed at having been caught. “It’s nothing, that is, only if you wish– I don’t mean to intrude, I–”

“Hana!” He cut her off. “It’s okay, I think I know what this is about… You want to know if I talked to Addams, right?”

Hana blushed even harder and nodded, hurriedly adding, “But only if you want to tell me, of course.”

Drake sighed. “I actually do. For whatever reason, I feel better when I talk to you.” He ignored Hana’s knowing smile.

“So I told her.”

Hana gasped and clutched his arm, waiting with bated breath for him to continue. It took Drake some time, as he grappled with how much to say and what to keep to himself. On the one hand, he wanted to be honest with Hana, who had become one of his closest friends. This never ceased to surprise him. On the other, like a superstitious kid wishing on his birthday candles, he felt like saying anything about Addams’s feelings out loud might jinx his already precarious chances.

“Well, uh, she definitely cares for me, but I doubt it goes beyond friendship.”

Hana uttered a small “oh”; he suspected that, just like him when the situations were reversed, she was probably torn between sympathy for her friend and relief that Riley remained unattached, at least in theory.

Her grip on his arm became a soothing back and forth motion as she said, “There is hope then, especially if she did not specifically call you her best friend like…”

She trailed off, her voice thick. Drake jumped to his feet and pulled on her arms, practically forcing her to her feet.

“Right, enough moping. What do you say I teach you something for a change?”

Hana sniffled and smiled with a resolute nod.

They spent the next half hour speaking only of beams, pulleys and nails, simply enjoying each other’s company and the satisfaction of building something from scratch. The sun had come out in full and was beating down on them. Realizing his shirt might be soaked through by the time the press, and more importantly Addams, got there, Drake took it off. Hana moaned with envy, fanning herself and pulling her damp dress away from her sticky body.

Some nobles had begun to arrive and, like Drake, most of them took their shirts off right away, the difference being their goal was most likely to protect the expensive fabric, whereas Drake’s was to avoid dying from a heat stroke. His theory was proven when he noticed a handful of them using a nearby tree as a clothesline, hanging their shirts neatly off a branch.

He handed her one end of a rope to pull. She held it loosely, waiting for him to grab the other end, when they heard voices approaching. Their eyes met, their shared excitement so obvious that it made both of them laugh nervously. Still making eye contact, they seemed to come to the same conclusion simultaneously: it would look impressive if they pulled this beam into place just as Riley arrived.

Drake mouthed a countdown, then said, “Pull!”

They grunted with the effort, such a guttural noise sounding hilariously out of place coming from Hana’s prim lips.

A chant came around the corner: “Pull! Pull! Pull!”

Even if he hadn’t recognized the voice, Drake would have known it was Maxwell purely because of the man’s obsession with chanting.

“Hey, guys,” came Riley’s voice immediately after Maxwell’s.

Hana whirled around at the sound of her voice, which normally would have made Drake laugh, had her grip on the rope not slackened, leaving him pulling with all his might.

“Maxwell? Riley?”

In her eagerness to hug them hello, Hana dropped the rope entirely, bringing the beam crashing to the floor. Drake flinched and glared at her.

She had the grace to look chastised and grimaced apologetically. “Oops! Sorry, Drake! I was just excited to see our friends.”

Drake rolled his eyes but let her off the hook, “I don’t think we were going to get it all the way up there anyway.”

His eyes, as they so often were nowadays, were drawn to Riley. She was, for once, wearing comfortable, sensible clothes and she looked all the better for it, in Drake’s opinion. Sure, he liked how she looked in her elegant gowns, but there was something about the tight denim shorts and soft cotton shirt she was wearing that left his mouth dry.

Having almost involuntarily given her body a once-over – _I probably look like such a creep_ – his eyes made their way back up to her face. His brows furrowed as he noticed her eyes looked glazed and her mouth was slightly open.

“Drake… You’re not wearing a shirt.”

Oh. Oooh.

Lifting beams had taken less of an effort than the one he exerted now to keep himself from smirking; he was only partially successful. He genuinely had forgotten about that. Because of Hana’s (understandable) non-reaction, he hadn’t even thought to use his muscular chest to his advantage. Nobody would ever accuse Drake of being vain. He wouldn’t even say he had healthy self-esteem.

But damn if I don’t look good without a shirt on.

He played it down with a quick, “Oh. Right.”

Hana narrowed her eyes, perhaps considering this might have been his plan all along. “He started off with a shirt…”

“Hey, it’s hot out! A guy’s got to cool off somehow.” Not used to this much attention, he cast about for a distraction. “Maxwell, you’re going to be sweating buckets in that black shirt.”

“There’s a spot over there where many of the nobles are hanging their dress shirts. Or, alternatively, I think Drake chose a spot on the ground for his.” Hana nodded toward Drake’s crumpled denim shirt.

“Nah, I’ll leave my shirt on. This button down’s made of moisture-wicking fabric. Very breathable,” Maxwell replied, even while beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

Drake frowned at him but Maxwell refused to meet his eye.

“Drake, you sure you’re not trying to show off for the press?” Riley teased.

_As if._

“I’m happiest out of frame.”

Maxwell clapped his hands together. “Well, Riley should be giving the press something to shoot. Come on! Let’s lift things and build barns.”

Hana giggled. “I think that’s missing a few steps.”

“Details, details,” dismissed Maxwell, holding the nearest rope.

Drake pointed out which ropes to grab to Hana and Riley, then took his own.

“Everyone ready?”

Riley gave a small pull to her rope to punctuate her, “Ready.”

“We’re supposed to hold it like this, right?” Hana asked.

Drake gave her an encouraging smile. “Yeah, you got it. Now on three, pull together. One… Two… Three…”

“Heave!” Maxwell said, using his whole body to pull on his rope.

“Rah!” Riley grunted.

A bit unevenly, first rising on his side and Maxwell’s and more hesitantly on Riley’s and Hana’s, the beam was hoisted up to its place.

“Yes!” Riley fist pumped.

_That’ll make for quite a photo op._

It was a small victory. Compared to everything that still needed doing, it was practically nothing. Yet seeing Riley’s joy at having done something she’d never done, and doing it together, was enough to make him hive five her as if they’d finished the barn.

“We did it!” Hana squealed.

Riley smacked her fist with her palm, and with her best action hero voice said, “We showed that beam!”

“That was mostly me, but the help was appreciated,” said Maxwell, who was now sweating profusely.

He leaned on Drake’s shoulder. It was only too tempting for him to step back and watch his friend stumble. “Yeah, sure it was.”

Laughing his near fall off, Maxwell looked at the press, who had moved on to photograph other suitors. “Riley, I’ll look for something that’ll put you on the front page!”

Hana looked over where the press was, spotting Penelope making planks with other nobles. “Making planks for the walls looks like fun. You could help me with that.” The last part was directed at Riley, and there was a hopeful glint in Hana’s eyes.

“You’re welcome to stay here.” Drake shrugged like it was all the same to him.

Riley, however, barely thought about it. “I’ll stay here with Drake.”

As much as Drake wished she had pretended to think a bit more about it to spare Hana’s feelings, there was no denying the rush it gave him to hear those words, even if just in the context of barn raising.

_If only she would keep choosing me._

Ha! Don’t hold your breath. It’s just ‘cause Liam’s not around.

“Suit yourself.” Maxwell went off to schmooze members of the press.

“Have fun!” To Hana’s credit, it sounded almost sincere, but her back had a strange rigidity to it as she walked over to Penelope.

More to break the silence than anything else, Drake said, “Well, looks like you’ve chosen to stick with me, Addams.”

It was phrased like a regular sentence, with no particular inflection, but there was a question in it which Riley seemed to sense. “I stand by my decision.”

_How does she always know the right thing to say?_

She gave him a disarming smile that Drake couldn’t help but return, but all he could reply was, “Heh, alright.”

“So,” said Riley, moving closer with the smoothness of a predator stalking its prey, “what does big strong Drake need my help with?”

The way she said the words big and strong went straight to Drake’s crotch and he swallowed, trying to keep himself under control by thinking of Bertrand.

“Beam lifting, of course. But I’m bringing in some help.”

He was already retreating as he explained, desperate for other company to break the tension; even animal company would have to do.

Outside the partial barn, a couple of horses were tied to a post. He selected the one that looked stronger and walked back to Riley, somewhat soothed by the horse’s presence.

It snorted when it reached Riley, who let it smell her hand before patting its velvety muzzle.

“I figured some real horsepower would make everything go a lot quicker. But this’ll also make an even better picture for the press.”

Riley glanced at him from around the horse, grinning. “Aww, thanks, Drake. You do care.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

It was Riley’s turn to look uncomfortable at his candor. She cleared her throat and, without meeting his eyes, asked, “What do I need to do?”

“I want you to guide the horse forward, while I direct the beam.”

“Got it.”

Drake handed Riley the reins, allowing her small, always-warm hand to linger on his. After yesterday’s conversation he was finding it more and more difficult to keep his distance, to be careful, even.

_Yeah, well, you better get used to it again. You can’t be holding hands in public events, what the fuck are you thinking?!_

He abruptly took his hand from under hers and moved to hold the beam, trying his best to ignore Riley’s hurt eyes.

“Okay! Pull!”

With an encouraging, “Easy, girl. Right this way,” Riley skillfully directed the horse in the opposite direction, lifting the beam. As it reached the right height, Drake steered it to the correct angle so that it fell smoothly in place.

He walked back to Riley and the horse, sweat glistening on his chest. Riley glanced at him and swallowed thickly. He somehow ended up standing closer to her than he’d planned.

He wiped his brow and said, “Whew, that wasn’t so bad. Good work, Riley.”

She shrugged. “Thanks, but the horse did most of the work.”

“Well, thanks, horse.”

The animal whinnied gratefully at their petting. They looked up from the horse and their eyes met in a moment of mutual understanding. Without being outwardly romantic, it was probably one of the times that Drake felt closest to her, and he was once again struck by the unfairness of the whole situation, by the fact that, had they met under different circumstances, they would want similar things out of life and therefore make a good team.

Riley seemed to be thinking along the same lines, if her suddenly watery eyes were anything to go by. She opened her mouth to say something, which Drake dreaded and anticipated at the same time, when they heard uncertain, tottering steps coming towards them, accompanied by heavy panting.

Lady Kiara came into view, looking much less composed than usual, her shiny black hair escaping in sweaty tendrils from its half updo and her face red and shiny with exertion. She punctuated each excruciating step with strained words, “Just… a few more… steps… till I can drop this… stupid plank…”

Presumably thanks to her choice of footwear (platform shoes), she took a false step and stumbled. Trying to regain her balance, she overcompensated and twisted her ankle. She barely had time to scream, “Mon dieu!” before she was on the floor, the beam on top of her.

“Kiara!” Riley was the first to run towards her, yet she then hovered uncertainly, knowing she would not be able to lift the beam alone.

Drake muttered a quick, “Oh, jeez,” and ran to help.

He tossed the beam aside like it weighed no more than a pillow and reached a hand down to help Kiara up, concern etched on his face. She made no move to take his hand, but she did not look hurt; on the contrary, she seemed delighted, if a little shocked.

Blushing a bit, she said, “Oh, merci beaucoup.”

“You okay?” asked Riley, still worried.

Kiara seemed to have forgotten her presence altogether, ogling Drake. Her insolent scrutiny went all the way from his feet to his face, making some uncomfortably long stops along the way. “I am now.”

_Huh, so this must be what girls feel like aaall the time. Can’t say I hate it, but I’m sure it gets annoying._

He thought of something normal to say, “You shouldn’t carry this all by yourself.”

Still blushing, Kiara fidgeted with her messy hair, replying, “I… uh, you know how it is. Penelope said she was taking a five minute break thirty minutes ago,” she nodded toward her friend, who was absorbed in a game of fetch with her poodles outside, “and I didn’t want to wait around.”

Drake shook his head, putting a hand lightly on her shoulder, “If you’re going to carry a beam, even a small one, at least find someone like me to help you.”

“Right, I’ll find someone… like you,” she said breathily.

He offered his hand again and this time she took it. Giving him one more lustful look, she said, “Thank you for looking out for me, Drake,” and left them to an awkward silence.

“Do you think you have an admirer?” Riley’s voice sounded much too cheerful, her smile forced.

“I hope not,” he replied honestly.

Kiara chose that exact moment to look back at him over her shoulder, a move that had to be purposefully seductive.

“I think she might be checking you out.”

Trying to get back to their easy teasing, Drake said, “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing!”

It was true. When he glanced at her, he saw the same stiff smile on her face. She was very obviously making the same effort as he was at their usual banter, but somehow it came out strained and weird.

“I don’t want to think about this. Let’s just finish this barn. That’s simple. Just move and build.”

Her smile faded completely. “Right.”

They worked in silence, but it wasn’t the usual comfortable silence of their moments in between.

_I hate this. We haven’t been this awkward together since we first met._

_You know why that is, don’t you?_

_I’m not sure._

_Don’t play dumb. She’s jealous. You can use this to your advantage._

_No! You saw how hurt she was! I don’t want her to feel like she has to fight for my attention!_

_Why not? You have to fight for her attention all the time. It’s always Liam this, Liam that. Even that night at the Beaumont Bash, she couldn’t wait to go on her date with Liam. Face it, this is the only way she’ll appreciate you._

He rolled his shoulders and mentally shook himself. This was not the time to debate himself – he was way past the point of wondering whether it was right to debate yourself at all. He resolved to focus on the work instead and tried to keep his mind off the awkwardness.

At some point – it could have been 15 minutes or 3 hours – Maxwell came to get Riley, jabbering on about photo-ops and PR. Riley shot him an apologetic grimace that he only half believed; if she’d been feeling anywhere near as weird as he was then she probably felt the tiny bit of relief he did.

Left alone, Drake worked with machine-like efficiency, pausing only to wipe the sweat off his brow when it threatened to sting his eyes. A maid came around offering lemonade and sandwiches, which he gratefully accepted, having forgotten to go back to the manor for a proper breakfast earlier. As he ate his sandwiches – they couldn’t have expected him to take just one – he noted the other nobles gave him a wide berth as usual, and his friends were all busy, which suited him fine. He preferred to be alone with his thoughts for the moment.

_Ugh, are Addams and I gonna have to talk about that?_

_Talk about what?_

_Jealousy, I guess. What it means for us–_

_Us? Listen to yourself, there is no us, you moron!_

_Fine, whatever. If I even want that to be a possibility, I gotta get to the bottom of this shitshow. Who would stand to gain something by ruining Addams’s chances?_

The obvious answer was Madeleine, but he wouldn’t allow himself to be blind to other potential culprits. He interrupted his mental list – which ended up including pretty much everyone, rendering it useless – when he saw Bastien walk by.

“Hey, Bastien!” he called after him.

The man doubled back and nodded for a greeting.

“I was thinking about the pictures. The ones from Liam’s bachelor party.”

“What about them?”

“I don’t know, I can’t help feeling that finding out who took them would lead us to the person behind the other pictures.”

Bastien’s lips tightened the way they always did when he disapproved. “That seems like a leap, Drake.”

“How is it a leap?! Two sets of secret pictures taken in such a short period of time? Both of them involving Liam and Riley? How could they not be related?!”

The older man raised his hands, trying to pacify Drake. “I did not mean to say they cannot be related, merely that we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

“Fine. You’re still looking into it, though.”

Clicking his tongue irritably, Bastien answered, “Yes, you asked me this recently, of course I am.”

He turned abruptly and stalked off.

Drake could not help but note that Bastien had been acting more and more prickly lately, and while it wasn’t completely out of character for him to snap at Drake, the frequency was out of control. He carefully sifted through his woundedness to get at the heart of what was bothering him about his mentor’s attitude. Bastien seemed overly cautious in this investigation, and it rubbed Drake the wrong way.

Still puzzling over it, Drake kept carrying and placing beams until it hit him: surely Bastien was acting cautious because it was extremely likely that a noble was behind everything. You had to be careful in court not to step on anyone’s toes, or if you were going to do it, you had to at least be certain they were the right toes.

Bastien probably suspected one of the more powerful nobles, and so he couldn’t risk being brash. This left him with a somewhat smaller pool of suspects, which he decided to share with Riley when they had another chance of being alone.

Having finished his area, Drake went out to look at other groups’ progress. Although unpainted, the impressive wooden structure of the barn was finished; it was hard to believe it had been erected in just a few hours.

As he walked up to his friends, Riley voiced Drake’s thoughts, “We did it! And it looks great.”

He elbowed her playfully, “Not bad for a bunch of nobles…”

“That was exhausting,” said Hana, looking composed as usual, “but I’m glad we did it.”

Maxwell, on the other hand, collapsed where he stood, panting, “No more. Can’t… saw… another… plank of wood.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Maxwell.” Drake seized his hand and tried to pull him to his feet. He wouldn’t budge. “If this was a dance set, you’d still be going.”

“Like a heart, I need a beat to keep going, but all I hear is the angel’s choir. Remember me fondly.” He managed to extricate his hand from Drake’s and let it fall to the ground, his head lolling to one side and his tongue out to indicate his death.

Riley giggled and even Drake allowed a grudging smile, but Hana’s brows knitted together.

“Should we…” she hesitated, leaning halfway down towards Maxwell.

“He’ll be fine,” said Drake.

Just then, Liam sauntered towards them, wiping his face with a towel, which he then handed to one of the surreptitious assistants that shadowed him almost constantly. As per usual, he sported a dazzling smile, which Drake noticed Riley was quick to return.

“Hello, my lords and ladies.”

Drake clapped him on the back. “You managed to escape after all.”

Liam gave an exaggerated sigh. “Until tomorrow at least. It’s been a long day.”

“No kidding. I could really use a bath.”

Drake made an automatic – and ultimately futile – effort to stop himself from picturing Riley in a bath. He could practically see her wet skin glistening, slippery with soap, and her breasts just poking up through the surface of the water. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly watering.

Maxwell chose that very opportune moment to stir and finally shot up to his feet. “Oh, I know of a spa nearby where we could unwind.”

Drake raised an eyebrow. “What happened to being on death’s doorstep?”

Maxwell grinned. “I caught my second wind.”

“I’d love a relaxing spa trip,” said Hana.

“That’d be a nice end to the day,” agreed Liam, offering Riley his arm. She took it with a gracious smile, but Drake caught her glancing at him.

“Let’s go!” Maxwell gestured for them to follow him as he half skipped to the limo.

They piled into it. As Maxwell informed their driver of their destination, Liam popped a bottle of champagne, pouring some for all of them. Once they all had a drink, Liam toasted, “To a job well done and to a rest well earned.”

“Hear, hear!” said Hana, clinking her glass with Liam’s.

Drake clinked his with Riley’s first, making pronounced eye contact which he hoped conveyed his thoughts. _Let’s leave today’s weirdness behind. Let’s just be us._

It seemed to work better than he expected, because she gave him a sweet smile and he thought she may have even nodded discreetly, too.

They spent the rest of the ride talking and laughing easily, as close as they came to a normal group of friends. They left the limo as they came up to a squat building made mostly of marble, with wooden accents here and there. Warm yellow light flooded out from the enormous windows, the open wood shutters shadowed the concrete floor outside with long stripes that dissipated toward the end. A pool sparkled in the setting sun, strongly inviting in the lingering heat.

Maxwell whooped as he sprinted to the reception. Liam hurried to catch up with him, possibly worried the receptionist might suffocate under so much enthusiasm. Hana brought up the rear, smiling into the breeze and leaning down to touch the water, which left Riley and Drake alone in the middle of the group.

“So–”

“So–”

They laughed, insisting that the other go first, until they both fell silent. Drake was just agonizing over what to say, wondering if their relationship would ever stop being awkward now, when he felt Riley’s hand bump into his. She seemed to hesitate at first, then firmly intertwined her fingers with his. He looked down at their hands, more touched by this than he could’ve imagined. It was a leap of faith; he could practically see it on her face, _We’ll be okay, right?_ He squeezed her hand, _Of course we will._

He let her hand fall, but could still feel a glow between them as they walked the rest of the way. They were back to good silence.

They caught up to Liam and Maxwell, with Hana joining them a few seconds later. The deferential receptionist handed them all fluffy white robes and directed them to the men’s and women’s spa rooms. Drake and Liam immediately stripped down to their underwear, Drake seizing the opportunity to whip his towel at Liam’s back, hopping away before his friend could get him back.

“You’ll pay for that one, Drake!” Liam laughed.

Drake, however, had become distracted by Maxwell’s continued absence. He’d gone behind a bamboo screen to change, which was already weird in itself as he and Liam weren’t nearly that modest, but stranger still was how long he was taking.

_Come to think of it, he’s been extra modest lately._

He didn’t remember Maxwell being that way before. In fact, once he thought about it, he came to the conclusion that he had first noticed it during Liam’s unconventional bachelor party at the beach cove.

He nodded his head towards the screen and Liam shrugged, seeming just as confused as he felt.

“Maxwell?” Liam took a few tentative steps forward. “Is everything okay?”

“Er… yes. I don’t suppose there’s any chance you two would close your eyes for this whole thing?”

Drake chuckled. “What? Dude, what are you talking about? Come out.”

They heard a heavy sigh on the other side, and whispers that sounded like Maxwell hyping himself up. “Okay, promise you won’t laugh.”

Liam said, “Of course,” at the same time as Drake replied, “Not a chance,” and Maxwell stepped out.

Whatever Drake had been expecting, it wasn’t this. Maxwell had a decent-sized tattoo of a baby hippo, of all things, on the right side of this chest. He felt his mouth drop open, too shocked to actually laugh.

To his surprise, it was Liam who let out an involuntary snort that turned into a genuine belly laugh before he could suppress it. He clapped a hand to his mouth, ashamed, and apologized profusely to Maxwell, but it was clear he was working hard to keep the laughter at bay.

Drake on the other hand, had managed to get ahold of himself enough to close his mouth, which was now spreading in a fascinated smile. He trying to choose from a variety of teasing comments to make when Maxwell ran back behind the screen.

Drake changed his tune, “Aw, come on, Maxwell, it’s not that bad!”

“Yeah, right, I could see it in your face you were about to say something.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely gonna tease you, but you’ll be fine.”

Liam gave him a look that made it clear he should stop speaking and let _him_ coax Maxwell out, when the door burst open and Riley and Hana came in, giggling.

“Surprise!” squealed Hana.

“Hey, guys!”

“Oh!” Liam automatically grabbed his towel when he turned to look at them, as if fearful it would fall off. “Riley, Hana! Should we… er… cover up more?”

Riley rolled her eyes at the suggestion, which made Drake snicker. “I think the ladies will be fine.”

To everyone’s surprise, it was Hana who said, “Yes, I’ve seen a man in a towel before.”

Drake had been on the point of asking whom and why, when Riley looked around and asked, “Wait a second… where’s Maxwell?”

With a gloating smile, Drake gestured to the screen. “Hiding. And that was before you all burst in. Come on out, Maxwell.”

Liam’s voice was trembling with contained laughter. “Yes. You can’t hide forever.”

Maxwell shuffled out of the screen, his timid steps undercutting his defiant words. “Go ahead and laugh if you want.” In a smaller voice, he added, “Just don’t tell Bertrand you saw it.”

“Is that a baby hippo?” Hana asked, delighted.

Riley, like Drake, seemed to be speechless for a few seconds. Her hands were covering her mouth and she was wearing an expression much like a kid’s on Christmas morning. She slowly lowered her hands to say, in hushed tones, “Wow… Maxwell, that tattoo is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

Maxwell’s face was split by a huge grin. “Really? You like it?”

“Love. I love it,” she said fervently.

Maxwell blushed. “Aw… heh, now I wish I’d shown it to you sooner!”

“Would I be correct in guessing that there’s a story of some sort behind this?” asked Hana.

“Kinda…” Maxwell shook his head as if to get rid of the flush creeping up to his cheeks, then cleared his throat and started, When I was a kid, my mom would call me her little hippo.”

Drake and Liam, who had been holding in their laughter this whole time finally broke. Riley smiled even wider than before and said, “I didn’t think it was possible for this moment to get better, but here we are.”

Hana glared at all of them in turn, which made them all moderate their amusement; it was clear this was important to Maxwell.

“I was kind of chubby when I was younger, before I got into dancing. My dad was really hard on me about it, but my mom never made me feel bad.” Maxwell’s smile turned dreamy and he suddenly seemed far away.

“She was really smart and funny. She said I was just like a hippo… fun-loving, but tough, and always able to make her smile. And she made them sound really cool and amazing.” Maxwell’s voice got quieter and slower, his previous enthusiasm fading. “Anyway, when she passed away, I wanted to do something to commemorate her. I told Bertrand I was going to get something done… I guess he thought I meant like, have some artwork commissioned… So he was pretty surprised when he saw this.”

A smile slipped out at the end and it was such a Maxwell smile, sheepish but unapologetic, that Drake felt a rush of affection for his impulsive friend.

“I can imagine…” muttered Riley.

“I suppose it doesn’t particularly fit with the image of House Beaumont that Bertrand’s striving to maintain…” agreed Hana.

“Yeah, this was more or less his second to worst nightmare. Or so he keeps telling me, anyway… So he said that if we’re ever around the nobility or servants, I had to keep it covered up. But… I can trust you, right?”

He asked this so earnestly that Drake put his arm around his shoulders, while Liam nodded solemnly.

“Of course! On my honor,” Hana said, crossing her heart.

Riley winked and said, “Maxwell, I’ll only tease you when Bertrand isn’t around.”

Maxwell chuckled. “That’s all I ask.”

Sensing that Maxwell could use a change in subject, Drake said, “As fun as discussing Maxwell’s hippo tattoo has been, I’m going to take a dip in the cold plunge… Anyone want to join?”

Liam shuddered. “No thanks. After today, I’m relaxing in the tub…”

They parted ways, leaving Hana and Maxwell talking in the same spot and Riley… Drake had deliberately avoided looking at her as he walked towards the pool, not wanting to get his hopes up or influence her decision in any way.

He discarded his towel and stood at the edge of the pool in his blue boxer briefs. He was taking air in through his mouth, trying to convince his body that cold was an illusion, when a voice coming from somewhere below his left shoulder said, “Trying to summon your courage?”

Without looking back at her, he replied, “This is supposed to be good for you.”

“Oh?” Riley stepped up next to him at this, looking curiously up at him.

“Yeah. Like most things in life, the best thing is sometimes the most painful.” He held her eyes, which revealed her agreement. “Want to do it with me?”

“The cold plunge? I’m in!”

She unwound her towel. She was wearing a simpler bra than she had last time he had seen her in her underwear. Not that that made anything easier. It was a basic black bra and matching panties and he was making a huge effort not to let his mind linger on the contrast between them and her soft, pale skin.

“Really?” He had half expected her to say no – the water really was freezing – but upon reflection he realized what a foolish thought that had been; when had she ever backed down from anything?

“Can’t let you do it alone.”

“That’s the spirit.”

This time he took her hand which judging by Riley’s smile, filled her with joy.

“Here goes…” She swung their hands together, giddy with the anticipation of the coldness.

Drake started a countdown, trusting she wouldn’t abandon him at the last moment. “One… two…”

“Three!”

They bent their knees and jumped at the same time, their joined hands awkward in midair due to the height difference. Drake’s entire body seemed to rebel against the cold, coming alive in a way that made its normal state seem dull and pitiful. He broke the surface with a huge gasp, his lungs feeling like they were struggling to fulfill their regular functions.

Riley came up next to him, just as shaken and out of breath as he was. “That was…”

He tried to get his breathing under control. “Intense?”

She breathed out a laugh, her chest still moving up and down. “That’s one word for it.”

He took a slow step closer to her and raised his hands to her waist, barely touching her. “Having trouble keeping up with me, Addams?”

She jutted her chin out. “Me? Never.” She came closer still, letting her hands rest just as lightly on his chest.

He laughed softly, his breathing erratic for reasons that had more to do with being able to count the drops hanging from Riley’s long lashes and less with the water’s temperature.

“You know,” he murmured before he could think better of it, “you owe me something.”

“Oh, do I?” She, too, was breathing unnaturally, he noticed.

“We had a bet to see who could get Maxwell to take off his shirt, remember?”

She opened her mouth in outrage. “That’s bullshit! You didn’t do anything!”

“You don’t know that.”

She narrowed her eyes and abruptly leaned the rest of the distance – tiny as it was – towards him. He had a moment of panicked excitement thinking she was going to kiss him, and so was disconcerted for a moment when he felt her lips near his ear.

“Fine. I owe you whatever you want.”

If the sultry whisper hadn’t been enough to make Drake want to take her somewhere – anywhere – they could be alone, the soft kiss she laid on his earlobe sure was. His hand involuntarily flew to her hair and she inhaled so sharply it was almost a gasp. This brought him somewhat back from the brink, reminding him of where and with whom they were.

He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting the last word in, though. Leaning in as close as she had, he whispered huskily, “I’ll hold you to that.”

He let go of her before she could recover – and he saw with some satisfaction that she did need a second to gather herself – and heaved himself out of the pool, offering his hand to her with a smirk.

She thanked him for pulling her out, still whispering, her eyes wider than usual. Then her face hardened with resolve. She quickly looked around and the next thing he knew, her lips were on his. She cut off the kiss, looking up at his reaction.

All he could say was, “Whoa!” and it was all he needed;  _I’m sure as hell not gonna waste my time talking right now._

He glanced back to make sure everyone was still engrossed in their activities, then pulled her back to him, responding with the kind of eagerness she had hoped for. She opened her mouth sooner than she had any other time, allowing his tongue to explore and then joining him with her own. Emboldened by their conversation in the pool and wanting to erase the first half of the day, he bit her lip gently, which made her moan in response. Ironically, it was knowing how turned on he was that made him stop.

They both panted the way they had in pool as they smiled goofily at each other.

“You’re full of surprises,” he said, not willing to let go of her hand just yet.

“Good ones, I hope?”

“You know, you can surprise me like that any day…”

_I wish you could surprise me like that every day…_

He grimaced and finally let her go. “But right now, we should probably…”

She scrunched up her nose and pouted. “Be sensible and discreet?”

“Unfortunately.” He caressed her cheek lightly with the back of his hand. “And believe me when I say that it’s very unfortunate.”

She sighed. “I guess we should check out the rest of the spa.”

They headed back to the hot tub, where Maxwell and Hana had joined Liam.

“I can’t believe you guys were in there this whole time! It’s freezing!” said Maxwell.

Liam had a troubled look on his face, but said nothing.

_Could he have seen us?_

_Uh, duh. This place isn’t that big! That was a stupid fucking risk to take._

_But I made sure he wasn’t looking…_

He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but from Riley’s sudden stiffness next to him, he sensed she had noticed, too.

Before he could analyze Liam’s expression properly, Maxwell grew tired of the hot tub. He stepped out of it, steam rising from his shoulders and walked over to the pool.

“Hey, everyone! Watch this!”

He dragged a chair to the edge of the pool and got up on it, his back to the pool and his knees bent. Drake thought he knew where this was heading and felt a twinge of concern.

Thankfully, Hana voiced it before he had to, “Is that safe?”

“Almost certainly not,” Maxwell answered before doing a backflip into the pool. He had to admit it was pretty impressive.

“I’m next!” Riley piped up.

“Step right up, step right up…” Maxwell shouted from the pool, sounding like a carnival ringmaster.

Once again, Hana said exactly what Drake was thinking, “Be careful…”

Drake’s heart felt like it was in his throat, watching Riley get on that chair.

With her signature confidence, she said, “I’ve got this!”

Her backflip, while evidently less practiced than Maxwell’s, was still well-executed and more importantly, ended with her safely in the pool.

This time Drake didn’t hesitate to compliment the move. “Okay, that was impressive.”

Liam clapped for her. “Very well done, Lady Riley.”

“Looks like I’ve finally met my match,” said Maxwell, putting an arm around her.

A clock installed over the door went off and Liam said, “It looks like our time here is at an end…”

“This has been so fun…” said Hana while helping Riley out from the pool and enveloping her in a towel. She squeezed Riley a little and continued, “I’m so glad we did this!”

“Yeah. This wasn’t so bad, as far as our capers go.” Drake glanced at Riley as he said this and noticed the smile playing on the corners of her lips; it had been way better than “not so bad” for them.

Liam clapped his back. “Highest of praise from Drake.”

Riley let her smile come out in full and looked around at the other four. “I’m glad we got to do this, too.”

Drake spent the ride back in silence, more determined than ever to find whoever was responsible for this conspiracy against his best friend and the girl he was crazy about. He had a bet to cash in on, after all.


	4. Flirting With Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conspiracy deepens and jealousy gets the best of our two idiots.

A country picnic. Never had two words been so deceiving. Two words for things Drake loved separately, and even more so together, stripped of their meaning and turned into a frilly, fussy, canapé-filled circus. 

He plodded downstairs, feeling as excited about the event as he would having his entire body waxed. 

“ _There_  you are!”

 _Uh oh._  Throughout his life he’d found that those words almost never preceded something enjoyable. Worse, although he could only make out the person’s silhouette, framed by the light streaming in from the open door, he recognized Maxwell’s voice immediately.

“What d’you want?”

“We’re having a dance-off!”

Maxwell had barely got the words out when Drake replied, “Absolutely not.”

“I’m just kidding, Hana’s having a dance-off with Madeleine.”

“Okay, is this a really weird dream? Is Bertrand about to barge in riding a giraffe?”

“First of all, I’m definitely going to have to hear about that dream later, but no, it’s all part of our genius plan.”

The sense of foreboding was back, but Drake’s brain seemed to think it was too early to try make sense of Maxwell’s hijinks. “Explain.”

“To find out who framed Riley! Hana’s challenging Madeleine as a distraction so she can slip away from the party and investigate!”

“Okay… I guess it’s not the worst thing you could come up with. I’m surprised you’re not upset that Hana’s doing the dancing, though.”

“Drake, I am ADULT. Why would I be–?”

“You already had a tantrum about it, didn’t you?”

“I wanted to do iiit,” Maxwell pouted. 

Drake put his arm around his friend’s head and pulled him down for a noogie. “I know, I know, shhh, shhh, shhh…” he cooed, still holding a struggling Maxwell. 

With his friend’s punches coming hard and fast, Drake finally loosened his grip on him and Maxwell managed to extricate himself, glaring at him. He  _hmphd_  and straightened his shirt, looking remarkable like his uptight brother for a second. Drake bit his tongue to keep himself from saying it; that would probably cause Maxwell to have an identity crisis.   

Laughing quietly, Drake put a relaxed arm on Maxwell’s shoulders, who tensed for a moment, fearing a second attack. “Come on, I’m sorry. Let’s go see Hana’s moves.”

Maxwell clapped his back – perhaps a bit more forcefully than usual – and walked out to the garden with him.

It looked much like Madeleine’s had on Riley’s first day back. It really struck Drake how homogenous nobles liked things to be; it was always some slight variation on the same thing: white ornate tent with pastel-colored accents, elaborately set tables with towering stacks of tiny food that looked more suitable for photographing than for eating, colorful flowery dresses and ridiculous hats for the women and elegant suits for the men. 

And yet, to Drake, among the sea of sameness, one person stood out, as always. He knew logically that there wasn’t anything particularly different about Riley; she was beautiful, of course, but she was by no means the only beautiful woman in attendance. Her dress was bright and flattering, but so were many others. Even her smile, pretty as it was, could be compared to others there. 

But that was not how he felt. Every move of her hands as she talked, every small gesture of her face made her infinitely more interesting than anybody else there. He’d familiarized himself with everything about her so thoroughly that at this point, he could guess what she was talking about just based on the way her hands and her mouth moved. As he came closer and started being able to catch snatches of what she was saying, he found that he could even predict the kind of movements she’d make as she told a story of a night out back in New York. 

_What the fuck have I become._

It was almost routine to ask this question of himself now, and he realized he was dangerously close to not caring at all. In fact, he was smiling as he approached her and tapped her shoulder, sorry to interrupt her story, but excited to be the one talking to her.

As she turned, he leaned in a little more appropriately than he had the day before and muttered, “Hey, Addams. Hana. Maxwell, er, caught me up on the plan. Now might be a good time…”

She nodded and took his hand to lead him away from the crowd. He took a second to acknowledge Hana, which he had forgotten to do in his scrutiny of Riley. He could always count on Hana to understand, though, as she smiled at him as sweetly as usual. 

“Oh! Right! I’ll… be right back. I just remembered something I really must speak to Madeleine about.” Hana winked at them, although her cheeks were looking rather pink. 

_The things we do for this girl._

Riley gave her a thumbs up and started making her way out of the tent with Drake in tow. Trying to follow her in her haste, Drake bumped into someone, making him let go of Riley’s hand. Seeing Drake stuck behind, she tried to make her way back to him, but she was being blocked by a couple deep in conversation.

Lady Kiara’s smile lit up her graceful face. “Drake, I’m surprised to see you here.”

It was the kind of event he would customarily have skipped…

 _Things really have changed these past few months_ , he thought, catching a whiff of Riley’s perfume as he joined him.

“Me, too. But I try to support Liam when I can.”

_Ha! Is that what we’re calling it?_

Kiara took a step closer to him. “You’ve always been such a good friend to him.” She reached out and let her hand rest on his arm. He noticed Riley’s eyes dart down at Kiara’s hand. “It’s part of why I always liked you. It’s such a shame what happened to your sister.”

With a flash of guilt, he realized he hadn’t been thinking about Savannah much lately, and as much as he tried to justify himself –  _I need to find out who’s framing Addams!_ – he couldn’t deny that he had practically given up on finding her. Still, it had been a while since anybody else mentioned her; even Liam hadn’t asked anything lately, so he smiled at Kiara with a swell of affection.

Riley, on the other hand, was not smiling. In fact, her eyes had narrowed and she’d crossed her arms defensively. “Wait… You’ve always liked Drake? Could have fooled me.”

Kiara’s face was stony. “Not all of us wear our hearts on our sleeves.”

For once, Drake could not be any less interested in their interaction. Savannah now at the forefront of his mind, he cast his memory back, trying to remember any friendship shared between her and Kiara. He furrowed his brow in concentration. “Back up a second… I didn’t know that you and Savannah spent time together.”

Kiara’s face took on a more neutral expression, but there was still something guarded about it. “Not much, really. It’s just she was so friendly. And she was coming along so well in her French lessons, and I was surpri–”

“French lessons?” Drake interrupted, “Savannah didn’t speak French.”

“I was teaching her before–”

The rest of her sentence was drowned out by a loud, thumping bass, which had replaced the gentle string music coming from the speakers around the tent. 

Drake vaguely heard Hana’s flute-like voice and Madeleine’s clipped tones and knew the challenge was being issued. He could not have cared less, his eyes had not left Kiara’s for a moment, silently urging her to go on and make herself heard over the din. She opened her mouth to speak, but something behind Drake seemed to catch her attention; it was only then that Drake felt his arm being tugged at. Riley was heading back through the crowd, trying to exit the tent. 

She turned her head back and whisper-shouted, “Pssttt. Drake, that’s our cue.”

Drake remained immobile, although Riley was using her entire body weight to pull on his arm, which felt like it might dislocate. “Wait, I need to talk to Kia–”

“There’s no time, we have to go while no one is looking!” With an unexpectedly powerful tug, she made him stumble, leaving him no choice but to follow her. 

Before he could even process what was happening, they were out in the garden, and they’d caught a security guard’s eye. Riley’s hand took off, along with the rest of her. With one last regretful look back at the tent, he followed her behind a hedge. 

“Lost him,” he panted. His relief was short-lived, though, as he registered what had happened. “Hey, what the hell, Addams?”

He couldn’t remember ever being this annoyed at her, not even when they’d first met. 

Riley’s exhilarated smile was instantly wiped from her face, a blank look on it instead. “What?”

“You heard me. I was talking to Kiara and you just–”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you were talking to Kiara.” Her voice dripped with venom as her face reddened. “I really should be more considerate, huh? Just watch as you two flirt right in front of me.”  

Drake’s mouth fell open. He was so outraged he couldn’t form words. “Wh–? How–? I can’t believe you–”

“Look, if it makes you feel better, you can go right back to your  _mademoiselle_  as soon as we’re done here. I’m sorry helping me is such an inconvenience.”

“Inconvenience?!” Drake roared, fiery anger shaking him out of his speechlessness. “What the fuck! You know better than anyone how committed I am to figuring this out.” He lowered his voice; it became deceptively calm, though it trembled slightly. “And as for flirting, you’re one to talk,  _Lady Riley_.” 

Riley’s nostrils flared. He noticed her eyes becoming watery with a savage satisfaction that he knew even then would come back to bite him in the ass later, yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret his cruel words. 

How could his so-called flirting with Kiara – he wouldn’t even call it flirting – be more important to her than his sister? She knew how much Savannah meant to him. He’d been certain if anyone could understand, it was Riley. And if he’d been mistaken about that… 

The idea of Riley not being who he thought she was proved too painful to contemplate for long, so he brought himself to look at her. Hot tears were spilling from her eyes and she stared at the ground fixedly enough to bore holes in it. She wiped her eyes and looked up at him defiantly. It was clear they weren’t sad tears, or at least not entirely. She was the picture of fury. She opened her mouth and he flinched in anticipation, when Maxwell poked his head around the hedge and motioned for them to follow him.  

Through a brief look, they agreed to put this fight –  _I can’t believe we’re fighting_  – on pause. They followed Maxwell around the garden to a spot just below Riley’s window.

“Where’s Bertrand?” she asked.

Maxwell nodded towards her room. “I sent him up to your room to stand in for you. I relayed everything that happened, so he’ll know where to go.”

“ _Bertrand_  is going to stand in for me?” Despite her red-rimmed eyes Riley sniggered. 

“Little known fact, before he was Duke Ramsford, Bertrand was an accomplished human statue.”

At any other time, Drake would’ve been the first one to appreciate a good old-fashioned Bertrand-is-not-a-human-being joke, but he was not in the mood. 

“What?” Riley also seemed a bit exasperated with Maxwell, which was unlike her. 

Thankfully, Maxwell’s poor observational skills kept his feelings intact. Or maybe he was just used to people being annoyed at him. “Kidding! But he will do almost anything to clear your name.”

“Alright Addams,” said Drake, looking everywhere but at Riley, “where do you think we should start?”

Gazing up at her window, she replied, “We should try to line up the shot.”

Maxwell handed Drake a professional-looking camera – not that he knew anything about photography – and checked his phone. “Looks like Bertrand is ready.”

Drake put the camera up to his left eye. He instantly came to the conclusion that they were too far away; he could barely make out Bertrand’s silhouette in Riley’s window. “This angle doesn’t look right. I think we’d have to be standing over there to get the right view.”

He pointed to the small garden that framed the manor’s entrance, and the other two followed him there.

Looking up at her bedroom, Riley said, “I can see right into my bedroom from here!” Momentarily forgetting their argument in her eagerness to confirm her theory, Riley turned to him, extending her arm, “Drake, hand me the camera.” 

She stared through it, craning her neck, then lowered it with a grimace. “Too low, Even someone seven feet tall couldn’t have taken this.”

The answer came to Drake in a flash, “They must have climbed the tree!” A tall tree stood almost directly under Riley’s window. It looked perfect for climbing, too, with its thick limbs and scarce foliage. 

Riley let out a resigned sigh, “I guess that means I’m climbing a tree…”

She whipped the camera around her neck, pulling her hair up then letting it cascade down so that Drake caught a whiff of her perfume. 

_Why does she have to smell so good when I’m mad at her?_

She climbed the tree with ease, as if this was something she did every day although in all likelihood she hadn’t done it in months, if not years. Drake allowed himself to be begrudgingly impressed. 

At one point, her right foot slipped off a branch, but before he had time to freak out, she’d hauled herself up with disproportionate upper body strength.

_Fuck me. Can she stop being cool for a second?_

He deliberately kept his face as blank as possible, willing himself not to show any hint of a smile or even approval. He was mad, goddammit, and he was going to stay mad. 

Maxwell made no such effort to hide his enthusiasm, yelling up at her, “Go Spider-Riley!”

Riley’s self-satisfied smile made Drake roll his eyes. 

She reached near the top of the tree and installed herself on a stable branch before raising the camera to her face. “It’s a perfect match!” She let the camera hang from her neck and turned to look down at them thoughtfully, “This is really close to the Manor…”

Drake nodded, “Whoever did it must have been  _at_  the party.”

“More than that, it means whoever did it must have been waiting around for the right shot. I mean… I’m literally up a tree. Whoever took those pictures wasn’t just standing around and happened to see… they were waiting.”

The implications of what she said dawned on Drake. “They knew Tariq would be in your room, which means it was definitely a set up and the photographer was in on it. And whoever hired the photographer must have known the manor pretty well to know about the view from this spot.”

The suspect list was getting smaller and smaller; it had to be someone who met all of those criteria and was high enough on the food chain to make Bastien uneasy. Short of Liam, Drake couldn’t think of anyone else who fit that description and had something to gain out of this, so he figured the other suitors would have to remain suspects even if there was something that wasn’t entirely convincing to him about that hypothesis.

His musings were interrupted by Riley asking, “Maxwell, didn’t you say that a reporter snuck into the party that night?”

“Yeah. A bold move, considering it was a private event…”

“We need to confirm if the reporter you saw is the same one who climbed the tree and took the photo,” said Drake.

“Right. Now I’ll go get Bertrand and meet you back here.”

Maxwell made to leave when Riley called out, “Can’t you just text him?”

Drake wondered if she was as desperate as he was not to be left alone, just the two of them. 

“Think, Riley!” Maxwell tapped his temple with his index finger. “What if they’re monitoring the airwaves?”

He ran off without another word, not giving Drake a chance to point out he’d texted Bertrand only a few minutes ago. A heavy, charged silence descended on them.

_We might as well get this over with. Fuck it, let’s fight._

He didn’t really feel like yelling his arguments up at the tree, though, so he prompted her, “You coming down, Addams?”

Riley had been gazing at her window, and when she turned to him, her face had softened, “Yeah, just thinking about how you came to my rescue that night.”

So, she was extending an olive branch.

He allowed himself a low chuckle. “I think I remember you coming to  _my_  rescue.”

She shrugged with a tentative smile. “Maybe a little.” Her smile faded, but her face remained open. “Drake I… I just wanted to say thank you.”

Before he could harden his heart, he’d blurted out, “It was nothing, Addams. Really.” Because it was. It was nothing compared to what he’d do for her. She didn’t even have to ask. 

She shook her head vehemently. “It wasn’t nothing. Not to me.” Her voice was thick with tears and Drake felt himself teeter on the edge of letting his anger go. 

But no. He couldn’t. How could she be so grateful for such a small action and yet not show him the same decency when it came to something that mattered so much to him? How could she have such a double standard when it came to his flirting with Kiara and her flirting with Liam? Did she really care so little about his feelings? Was she just using him to play with? To have some fun before becoming queen? Everything inside him rebelled against the idea of Riley being a selfish, careless person. He hadn’t known her for that long, but he knew with a certainty that shocked him that he hadn’t been wrong about her. That she absolutely was the amazing person that had changed his whole perspective on life. He knew this at his core. But then why? 

He cleared his throat and turning his back to her he said, “Well… uh… get down from there, before you hurt yourself.”

He resisted the urge to help her hop down and walked towards Maxwell and Bertrand, who were hurrying out the manor. He had only refrained from helping Riley because he was positive she wouldn’t need it in the first place – even if he normally would have offered anyway. A couple of beats went by, however, and he hadn’t heard her come down, so he turned to check on her in spite of himself. She was staring intently at something stuck on a branch. Feeling his eyes on her, she took whatever she found and landed gracefully on the ground, clutching it. He hastily continued walking, not wanting her to catch up, although she was obviously avoiding that, too. 

“I might have found something. Look,” said Riley as she joined the group.

They all looked down at black security pass encased in protective plastic. They could read Mansingh in sleek white letters.

“Mansingh?” He knew he’d heard the name before, but he couldn’t place it. 

Maxwell snapped his fingers. “It’s the company they used for security at the party. Super high-tech.” Of course! Drake remembered Bastien mentioning them a few months ago, when he was considering hiring them for another event. “Turn it over!”

The other side was caked in dirt, but the faint outline of the badge’s owner was visible. Maxwell promptly wiped it off with his sleeve.

Bertrand was outraged. “Maxwell, you’re making a mess! What would father say?” 

Maxwell let out a mirthless laugh. “The great Barthelemy Beaumont always had a lot to say about me.”

Putting a hand on Maxwell’s arm, Riley gave him an encouraging smile. “In this case, I think he’d at least be pleased that we’re making progress towards clearing the house name.”

“Perhaps,” Bertrand conceded. They examined the pass; a cool, professional-looking woman stared back at them, expressionless. “That must be the reporter! How did she get her hands on a Mansingh security badge?”

“She must have had help from the inside. Someone who could get her security clearance to a private party,” said Riley.

“Probably whoever hired her,” chimed in Drake, his brain in overdrive. “This badge must’ve given her access to the grounds, but when she was spotted taking pictures at a closed event…”

“Her ruse was uncovered and she was ejected,” Bertrand said.

“She could’ve lost the badge in the branches here, or tried to toss it away so no one knew how deep the conspiracy ran. Does it say who she is?” Drake asked.

“There’s something written beneath her picture, but it’s damaged…” Riley brought the pass closer to her eyes, peering at it with a concentration Drake normally would have found cute… Okay, he definitely still thought it was cute, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “I can’t read it.”

“But at least we have a real clue. We’ll investigate further. Good work…” Bertrand gave them what, to him, qualified as a smile, yet his lips barely moved. “With the picnic ending, we should get packed for our departure on the engagement tour tomorrow.”

Bertrand and Maxwell strode back to the manor. As Riley turned to leave he recalled his theory from the day before. He hesitated; he didn’t really feel like to talking right now, but this was bigger than any fight they could have and two heads would be better than one. 

He jogged up next to her and planted himself in front of her. Her eyebrows knitted and her arms crossed, her expression guarded; she clearly thought he was there to argue.

“Wait, do you have a minute? I just thought of something important.”

Her face relaxed. “What is it?”

“I was just thinking, Addams… this isn’t the first set of photos someone has tried to turn against you.”

“You mean the ones from the bachelor party? The ones you and Bastien kept from going to print?”

“Yeah. I don’t think it’s a coincidence either.”

Riley nodded. This they could agree on, at least. “Did you ever find out who did it?”

 “I have hunches, but nothing conclusive.” It was stupid not to tell her what he suspected, he knew it was, but he didn’t want to give up all his information just yet. If he was honest with himself, he withheld it out of spite. Though if he was even more honest – and he definitely did not care to be – a deep, pathetic part of him was hoping he could solve it himself. Be her hero in a way that Liam, who was too close to the scandal, couldn’t be. Good thing he wasn’t feeling honest.

Riley frowned, deep in thought. “A maid from the manor revealed that a disguised noble lady told her to pull a prank on Tariq the night the pictures were taken.”

“Hmmm…” So one of the suitors  _was_  involved. Well, his theory took that into account… maybe a suitor and some other, higher-ranked noble? Hell, some of the suitors’ parents were pretty important, though he didn’t really understand the hierarchy. 

“There might be a connection between the noble lady, the bachelor photos, and this photographer. Either way, this conspiracy goes deeper than we thought. Just…” He took one step closer to her, momentarily forgetting his irritation and let his hand ghost over her cheek. Her thunderstruck eyes shone with relief. _Did she think I could just stop caring about her?_ The thought was enough to bring out a grim smile. “Be careful, Addams.”

 

 


	5. International Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drake broods and the gang finds out who tried to sell the bachelor party pictures.

Drake’s eyes lingered on Riley’s retreating figure. He wrenched them from her and stormed into the manor, sweating more than the day warranted. He was on the point of throwing all acceptable social conduct out the window and taking his shirt off when he bumped into someone. 

“Hey, watch where you’re going, you–”

“I’m certain that was going to end with Your Highness,” said Liam with a teasing smile. 

“It was more along the lines of moron, actually,” he replied, though judging by Liam’s chuckling he knew Drake didn’t mean it. 

“Tired of the country picnic already?”

“As tired as the word picnic. You know, from doing such heavy lifting in that sentence.”

“Granted, it  _ is  _ a very loose definition of a picnic, but it’s still outdoors. I thought you might enjoy it.”

“Yeah, well,” Drake trailed off. “How about you? Hiding from your eager suitors?”

“Quite the opposite. I came into the manor to refresh myself before spending some time with Lady Riley.”

Drake’s vision clouded. 

_ Nice going, idiot. You pushed her right into Liam’s waiting arms.  _

He scoffed mentally at that.  _ Like she wasn’t already there to begin with.  _

“Drake, are you okay? You look parched.” 

As soon as Liam said that, he realized his mouth did indeed feel like he had cotton lining it.

“‘M fine,” he muttered.

Liams dark eyes were full of concern. “Are you sure? I don’t just mean physically. I have noticed you’ve been acting strange lately… Especially around Lady Riley.”

If Drake’s mouth hadn’t been bone dry, he would’ve choked on his own saliva. As it was, he made a weird wheezing noise, like he got the air knocked out of him. That had been the last thing he would’ve expected Liam to say. In fact, it was the last thing he  _ wanted  _ Liam to say. At that moment he legitimately would have preferred him to announce that Drake had to share a train compartment with Olivia. 

“I…”

Liam took his silence as an opportunity to continue. “Drake,” he put an arm on his shoulder and waited until he made eye contact, “you know you can tell me anything, right? No matter what it is, we’ll figure it out. I want you to be happy.”

Drake took a deep breath and swallowed. His mouth was still dry yet he felt like it had flooded with guilt. He stared at his best friend straight in the eyes and lied to his face, “No, man. Everything’s okay. You know me, I can be a bit of an asshole to everyone, including Addams sometimes. But everything’s good.” He clapped Liam’s back and released himself from his grip. “I gotta go drink something. I’ll see you at the station.” 

He sprinted to his room to get his bag before heading down to the station. He knew he’d be early, really early, but he couldn’t face staying here stewing in his anger and jealousy towards Riley, his guilt and resentment towards Liam, all his suspicions and paranoias and feelings of inadequacy. Everything was too much in Cordonia and he was exhausted.

He got one of Bastien’s men to take him to the train station where they would all meet an hour or so later to catch their train to Italy. The thought made him even more upset.  _ Going to Italy with Addams…  _ That sounded like a dream. He’d been lucky enough to visit the country before and he’d found it beautifully timeless. He couldn’t help thinking, even back then when he hadn’t had anyone to think about, that it would be a great place to visit with someone special. 

_ Well, that’s life for ya. Gives you what you want in ways that make you not want it anymore.  _

He strode into a perfunctory café which they hadn’t even bothered naming. Its drab, straightforward sign said only that: “Café.” A few of the tables were occupied by travellers laden with luggage and shopping bags. Drake thought he could pick out the tourists from the locals by the amount of stuff they had with them and level of enthusiasm. Locals tend to look much gloomier or at the very least pensive than visitors just passing by. He was sure he looked thoroughly local. 

He ordered a black coffee and sat down at an empty table facing the window. He had an unimpeded view of at least two platforms and everyone hurrying to and from them. As he sat there trying to guess their stories and sipping his coffee, he felt eyes on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a vaguely feminine shape staring at him. He turned his head slightly towards her and she averted her eyes, blushing. She was cute, with a blond bob that accentuated her fine features and glasses that framed her green eyes. She slowly raised her eyes again and gave him a shy smile, no more than a quirk of the corner of her lips. He smiled back.

_ She seems nice. Lives here, definitely.  _

The girl had only a small purse with her and had none of the excitement of someone traveling for pleasure. Nor did she look sad, though. She seemed like a nice girl with no baggage. A girl who wasn’t marrying his best friend. 

_ You could go up there, say hi. She clearly wants you to.  _

The girl had been stealing glances at him while he studied her, the small smile still on her lips as she pretended to read a book. She hadn’t turned the page since he’d sat down.

He looked back out of the window, more to keep himself from getting flustered than anything else. The sign above the platform closest to him announced the next train’s destination: Paris. 

He allowed himself to entertain the idea then. That he’d go up to that girl and talk to her. That they’d hit it off and start texting. Maybe even throw caution to the wind and go to Paris together, ‘cause why not. She’d try to read her book and he’d keep distracting her. He’d show her all the best places to eat and she’d be his guide for museums – she seemed like a girl who knew about that sort of thing. They’d laugh and kiss and decide to stay there, leave Cordonia and its court behind. She’d get a job as a curator and he would maybe apply to the police academy. Of course he’d have to learn French for that…

_ French. Savannah was learning French. _

With a profound sadness he sighed and got up, avoiding the girl’s eyes. He threw away the rest of his coffee on the way out and picked a bench on which to wait for everyone else. 

_ I was never gonna talk to that girl.  _

A voice inside him was yelling,  _ Why?!  _ Why wouldn’t he let himself be happy? Why not leave everything that hurt him and made him feel small behind?

_ Because she’s not Addams.  _

He put his face in his hands and did his best to clear his mind. He did not relish the idea of sitting here for however much longer it took to get everyone here with no company except for his tortured thoughts. He lifted his head as he remembered the park in front of the station. Maybe he could go there, run some laps, _ anything  _ to keep his mind as blank as possible.

Exercise usually did the trick for him when it came to blowing off steam or avoiding dark thoughts. Picturing Riley’s reaction when she saw him shirtless at the barn raising, he couldn’t help thinking,  _ Heh. Maybe being a grumpy fuck ain’t so bad.  _

Thankfully, this time was not an exception. The thirty-odd minutes he spent in the park were as close to pleasant as he’d had all day. He hadn’t even really broken a sweat, but he’d successfully outrun any thoughts of, well, anything. His brain was blissfully empty the entire time, so that as he ambled back to the station, his mood had improved a lot. 

And lucky it had, because who knows how he would have reacted to his self-described “cabin buddy” if it hadn’t. 

“CABIN BUDDIES FOREVEEER!” Maxwell was jumping on his bed when Drake slid the door to the compartment open. “Drake!” He landed on his butt and leaped towards him with such uncontrolled force that Drake had to catch and steady him. “Are you super excited or what? We get to travel all over Europe! Together!”

Drake took a deep breath, trying to return to the zen place he’d been in just moments ago. He tensed his arms in preparation for pushing Maxwell off him, but then he caught his friend’s eyes and the huge grin on his face and softened. He still nudged Maxwell away, but he was much gentler than he’d originally planned on being. 

If there was something he needed right now, it was a friend, and he couldn’t afford to drive the only uncomplicated friendship he had away. Liam was like a brother to him, but right now there was too much pain and guilt and unsaid truths between them; although he’d come to really appreciate Hana, he didn’t actually know her that well, not to mention they were both into the same person; as for Riley… he had no idea where he stood and he’d rather not think about it at all. So that left Maxwell: annoying, yet loyal and – he hated to admit – fun Maxwell.

He allowed himself a small smile. “Sure. It’s gonna be fun.”

Maxwell looked stunned for a fraction of a second. Then he fist pumped and squeezed Drake tightly, lifting him a few inches off the floor. “Yaaaay! It’s Fun Drake!”

“Put me down right now or I swear to God you’ll sleep with Bertrand.”

Maxwell almost dropped him in his haste to obey. 

“So, what are we doing tonight?”

What proceeded was a long-winded argument, with Drake insisting he was going to bed and Maxwell alternating between coaxing and pleading, and finally complaining that he wasn’t really “Fun Drake.”

“IMPOSTOR! WE WANT FUN DRAKE!”

Realizing his friend was dangerously close to chanting, Drake promised he’d make it up to him at some point during the trip. Only when he swore on all the whisky in the world did Maxwell let him go to bed.

When he woke up the next morning, or rather, afternoon, he was relieved to see no sign of Maxwell. He assumed most people in the entourage were in the dining carriage having lunch, so it was easy to dodge them all and go off on his own. He was in no mood to sightsee – it would only serve as a reminder of the fact that Riley was not with him, so he decided to go in search of a good  _ gelato _ instead. The task ended up being more difficult than he expected; he wasn’t looking for a tourist trap, he wanted authentic  _ gelato _ , the kind the locals would get. 

He walked further into the city and away from the more obvious spots, finally stumbling into a tiny  _ gelateria  _ that seemed to have every flavor he could have wished; there were creamy chocolates ones and chunky nut ones, countless colorful fruit-based sorbets and even some smooth alcohol flavors. In the end, he got two scoops of a dark espresso one in a cup, which he then took with him to sit outside in the sun. 

It was a cute little plaza, enclosed by vibrant buildings that somewhat insulated it from Rome’s perpetual noise. He could just make out the sound of cars and people in the distance, but it was more like white noise. Sitting next to a stone bench next to an old-fashioned water pump, left behind from some bygone era, he enjoyed himself more than he thought possible. He sat there long after his ice cream had gone, taking in the colors of the Roman sunset and the snippets of conversation that drifted his way, spoken in melodious Italian. 

He looked down at his phone and groaned.  _ Back to the real world.  _ He threw away his cup and spoon and felt as though he were shedding this peaceful, content persona with it. 

By the time he made it to the fancy, baroque building which housed the incongruously modern restaurant in which they were all having dinner most everyone else was already there. He got a peek of Riley wearing a skin-tight red dress that did him no favors in the Not-Thinking-About-Addams department and hastily chose a seat where he could still glance at her if he leaned forward, but wouldn’t have to if he’d rather not. He stood behind his chair, hands gripping the back of it, only now realizing he’d had nothing but an ice cream all day. 

Madeleine’s mom – he thought her name was Adeleide or something equally ridiculous – welcomed them. She was one of the few important nobles that Drake didn’t mind. For one thing, she was not a stickler; she could party with the best of them. Even better though, she didn’t look down at him the way her daughter did. He noticed Madeleine was glaring at her mom as she spoke and felt a pang of sympathy for the older woman. _ Yet another reason to dislike Madeleine. _

There was the sound of several scraping chairs as they were finally asked to sit down. Drake couldn’t help but remark that a handsome older man had sat down next to Riley, giving her a smarmy smile, which she returned. He huffed and focused on the fancy entrée he’d just been served.

Most of his meal was spent either leaning forward to see if the man was still talking to Riley or restraining himself from leaning forward to see if the man was still talking to Riley.

_ I’m going insane. _

He’d never been a jealous person before this. He was convinced, though, that this jealousy was a direct consequence of the circumstances; if he were in a normal relationship, there is no way he’d be reacting this way to a perfectly innocent conversation. 

As it was, he still felt himself getting hot around the collar of his shirt. He had absolutely no idea of what the dinner had consisted of, focused as he was on trying to psychically convince the man to leave. Drake was out of his chair the very second he did, rushing to grab the empty chair next to Riley. 

“I thought you’d never stop talking to that Italian guy,” he said, sitting down. 

“Awww, did you miss me?” Riley’s voice was playfully pouty, but there was a sarcastic edge to it that he hadn’t heard since the early days of knowing her.

He stiffened and said, “You’re preferable to standing alone in a corner.”

“Clearly a high bar.”

This was getting dangerously close to escalating, so Drake chose to be honest rather than scathing. “Yet so many fail to clear it, except you of course.” Despite – or maybe because of – the truth behind these words, he couldn’t bring himself to look at her as he said them.

“Just adorable, you two,” came a snotty voice from behind them.

Impeccable timing. It was like this woman had an internal clock that told her just when to cause Drake maximum annoyance. “What are  _ you _ even doing here, Olivia?” 

He hadn’t seen her since the engagement. It had been blissful.

“Helping Riley.”

Drake scoffed. “I’ve seen your kind of help. We’re better off without it.” 

“It’s good to see you too, Drake,” she said, her voice bored.

Riley touched Drake’s forearm briefly. He couldn’t believe how much he’d missed her touch. “She’s actually helping. She’s sincere, Drake.”

He wasn’t going to give in so easily. “Sincere in her cruelty.”

“We met up earlier because she’s looking for the blackmailer too,” Riley explained.

Drake glanced at Olivia with real curiosity for the first time in his life. Her face was impassive, except for her lips, which had tightened with fury. 

“I was targeted just like Riley. We have the same enemy.”

He hadn’t known that. He resolved to ask Bastien the first chance he got.

“If Addams is okay with it, then fine.” He narrowed his eyes. “But I’m watching you.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Olivia sneered.

“So, did you find anything?” Riley interrupted hastily.

“I’ve been following a lead. During the social season, someone tried to sell a pack of photos with Riley and Liam in New York to the tabloids.”

He couldn’t have been more taken aback. “How do you know about that?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m the Duchess of Lythikos. I get what I want,” she smirked.

“But Bastien and I bought the photos back before they were published. How did you find them when no one else did?” To his surprise, he didn’t really feel suspicious of Olivia. He  _ was  _ curious about where she had heard that, but the fact was that as Duchess she definitely held sway and could therefore get her hands on just about anything. 

Olivia waved a dismissive hand. “The details aren’t important. We’ll leave it at that.”

“So, does this mean the person who sold Drake the photos is the same person who had the photos taken of me and Tariq?” asked Riley.

“Don’t be dense, Riley. If I knew the answer to that, we wouldn’t be here having this pointless discussion,” Olivia replied.

“No need for insults here, Olivia.” Drake glared at her. “We want to get to the bottom of this as much as you do.”

“I think that whoever sold the photos could have a connection to the person who blackmailed Riley and me.”

Drake gave it a moment’s thought, unsure of how much to say. “That’s... a possibility. But unless you have something to show us, we’re no further in this investigation than we were before we started talking to you.”

“Funny you should mention that. As a matter of fact I have a copy of those photos with me. And I think I have a hunch about who took them. But I want you two with me on this.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this on the train?”

Drake raised an eyebrow at Riley; she hadn’t told him she’d met Olivia. Then again, they hadn’t done much talking since yesterday… 

“Because  _ somebody _ forgot the meaning of ‘come alone’,” Olivia said, scowling. 

“And I don’t count?”

“You’re not a threat.” She gave him a nasty smile.

Drake rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

“Besides,” Olivia turned to Riley, “I said I’d find you when I had more information to share, and here we are. Are you going to help or not?” She shot Drake a sharp look at this.

_ Am I gonna help? Hell, I’m the one that’s been looking into this all along! _ “ _ I’ll  _ look into it with you. Riley doesn’t have to get her hands dirty with this.” As much as it pained him to spend time alone with his nemesis, he was more than willing to do so to protect Riley. 

“Please,” Olivia snorted. “Riley’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”

“We don’t know where this lead will take us, and Riley could still be a target,” Drake argued. 

Riley’s voices was soft but steady as she said, “The dignitaries can wait. If she has new evidence, then I want to be there to see it.”

For the first time, Drake actually looked at her. “I don’t want people going after you because we overturned the right rock.”

“I think I’m good, but I love the concern, Drake.” She gave him the first real smile since yesterday and he felt his shoulders sag in relief. Somehow, he’d needed that, needed her to smile at him to know that they could get through this, that it wasn’t all over, even if he still was upset about what happened.

He sighed. “Alright, there’s not much use protesting.”

To Drake’s dismay Olivia sat down. He couldn’t deny that her help might be useful – they weren’t in any position to deny her aid, in any case – but why did it have to be her. He’d have even taken Penelope and her poodles at this point. At least she was harmless, whereas Olivia might stab him as soon as help him.

She said, “Good,” and laid out the bachelor party photos on the table. There were about 8 or 10 of them. They seemed to have been taken at the beach cove and they were all pretty decent quality. “These are copies of the images that were sold to the tabloids.”

“So what’s your hunch?” asked Riley.

“Look.” Olivia pointed to a photo in which Drake and Liam stood laughing together. Under any other circumstances, Drake would have wanted to have that picture. “In this photo, you can see Drake and Liam.” 

She pointed to another; this one showed Riley and Liam in the water, smiling at each other. “Here’s you and Liam.” Olivia moved her hand around the others, clearly looking for a specific one “Blah, blah, blah. What’s interesting is in this photo,” she found the one she wanted and pointed, “way in the background, you can see Tariq. So you know what that means? There’s only one person who’s not in a single photo. Maxwell.”

Drake’s heart felt like it was somewhere in his stomach. “No way... I thought Bastien screened all the photos.” 

Riley sounded choked. “That means the only person who could be the photographer is...”

“Maxwell,” he completed. 

“Maxwell?” Riley shook her head like she was trying to get rid of the idea itself. “We’re jumping to conclusions. Maybe there’s an explanation.”

“There’d better be.” Anger was boiling in Drake’s stomach. He felt like a bomb ready to blow up at any second, his rage and deep disappointment making a powerful combination.

_ Maybe it’s not him. This is Maxwell we’re talking about. _

He tried to cling on to that shred of doubt. But if it wasn’t him then why wasn’t he in any of the pictures?

“Whatever you think of him, he needs to be questioned,” Olivia said.

“Agreed,” he said grimly. He glared towards the end of the restaurant, where Bertrand and Maxwell were engaged in what seemed like an intense conversation, possibly regarding their dwindling funds.

“Let’s get him,” he said, already standing up. He stomped towards them.

Bertrand seemed shocked that he’d be so bold as to dare interrupt them. “Excuse us, we’re discussing important matters here.”

“I know I’m holding up the tiramisu, but we’re almost done here.” Maxwell’s carefree tone did not quite convince him, and his worried expression couldn’t match it. “Oh, hey, are we bringing Olivia with us too?” he added as she joined him with Riley.

A stony silence descended on the group. Maxwell’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “Why are you all looking at me funny? Is it a staring contest? I’m game. Grr… I’ll beat all three of you.” He frowned and stared at all three of them in turn. 

“Maxwell,” Riley’s voice was soft but unwavering, “explain yourself.”

“I’m an enigma. I’m beyond explanation.” Maxwell waved his hands around and wiggled his eyebrows in what he surely thought was a mysterious expression. 

Olivia help up the photos and accused him, “You took these.”

“Thank for citing your sources,” he grinned. “Those are my pictures from the bachelor party in New York. I actually like that one. I’m not much of a photographer, but I gave that one a nice Dutch angle.” He framed his eye with his fingers, giving Drake a strong urge to smack him. 

Drake still believed that Maxwell wouldn’t  _ knowingly _ hurt his friends, but that was precisely the problem: Maxwell’s obliviousness could border on selfishness and so the end result was the same. It didn’t matter if he didn’t mean any harm; what was done was done and it was incredibly frustrating to Drake that even now he couldn’t see how he’d screwed up.

“I can’t believe you,” was all he could say. 

“Did I do something wrong?”

_ How can he not realize!  _

“You’re connected to the blackmailer,” Olivia stated.

Maxwell’s eyes widened. “What? I would never betray Riley.”

“Maxwell, I believe that, but we need an explanation,” said Riley. “These photographs didn’t end up in the tabloid’s hands without  _ some _ help. Telling us what you know will help track that person down.”

Maxwell glanced at the floor and grimaced. “This is serious... I can’t hide it any longer. I took the pictures because I was going to make a scrapbook of all our time spent together…” He sighed in defeat. “There, the surprise is ruined.”

_ I can’t believe he’s talking about a fucking scrapbook right now. _ “Then why sell them to the tabloids!” he shouted, rapidly losing what patience he had left.

Maxwell put his hand up. “That wasn’t me! I could never do that.”

“You can and you  _ did! _ ” insisted Olivia.

Drake had completely lost his composure at this point. If Maxwell was capable of this then he truly couldn’t trust anyone. “You betrayed Liam! You betrayed Riley! You betrayed all of us!” He poked Maxwell’s chest, then in a low, sad voice he admitted the worst part of it all, “We trusted you.”

Maxwell was shaking his head so vehemently, his cheeks were shaking with it. “No! I... I...”

“Stop!” Bertrand was standing a few steps behind Maxwell. Frankly, Drake had forgotten he was still there. “Please. Stop. If you would please direct your ire away form Maxwell. The indiscretion in question is mine and mine alone.”

“Meaning...” Drake urged.

His usually pompous manner had lost all its self-importance. Bertrand sounded pathetic and ashamed. “I was the one who sold the photos of the bachelor party to the tabloids.”

Maxwell wheeled around to stare at his brother. “Bertrand! No! Why? How could you do that to Riley and Liam?”

“Explain yourself,” Drake said coldly. 

“There is no excuse for what I did, but the reason enough was simple... money.” At this, Bertrand looked down at his shoes. It was hard to tell whether he was more ashamed of his actions or of being broke. “Most nobles didn’t think Lady Riley would last a week... I was one of them. Here I was facing the terrible reality of having agreed to sponsor a failure of a candidate... House Beaumont’s last chance at being restored to its former glory would be ruined, and it would be on my shoulders.” He squared them then, as if adjusting the weight of all his responsibilities. “I decided to salvage what I could and sell any material related to you, the photos in question being the only thing I could find.”

“Bertrand…” Maxwell couldn’t keep the hurt out of his voice, “you went through my phone” 

“I was doing research, all in the name of saving House Beaumont,” Bertrand’s eyes were pleading, yet as he looked at his younger brother, he seemed to realize none of his excuses would be enough. “But... I betrayed you, Maxwell, my only brother, my own flesh and blood. Father would be ashamed if he knew.” He hung his head. 

“Bertrand, I understand why you did it.” Riley said sadly. “You’ve been struggling to scrape every cent together to support your house.”

Drake gaped at her. Here was that trusting nature that he’d been so worried about when she first arrived.  _ How can she forgive him so easily? Bertrand would have sold her out for like $5!  _ “Riley... he sold private photos of you and Liam...”

And then there was the fact that this was not just about her. Liam would’ve been more harmed by those images by Riley, after all. She had only been some random girl then; Liam was already the heir to the throne.

“That doesn’t mean I approve of it,” she said, more harshly. 

“Nor should you,” said Bertrand. “If it means anything at all, and I don’t suspect that it does... Please know that I’ll never forgive myself for this. For what I did to you.” Bertrand gazed out of the window, his lips a thin line and his face red. “If it’s any solace, I can only say that this was before... Before I knew you. Before I saw that you had a chance here at court. Before I... before I began to believe in you.”

Perhaps that hit a little too close to home for Drake, for he found himself fuming. _ How dare he have assumed so much? But more than that, how can he have acted on those assumptions? _

“Another mistake by the  _ oh-so-illustrious _ Duke of Ramsford,” he sneered, his nostrils flaring.

“It would appear so,” Bertrand muttered. “Lady Riley, I do not believe my actions are worthy of your forgiveness... Even so, let me extend to you my most sincere apologies.”

“Mine too,” said Maxwell.

Bertrand put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “No, Maxwell, you had nothing to do with this. The blame is mine to shoulder. I know it’s too much to hope for your forgiveness, but I’d at least like to offer my continued services. My misconduct has no relation to the cretins who so wrongly hurt you. I may still be of some use in helping you uncover your true enemies here.”

Drake had not expected Bertrand’s voice to harden as he talked of the conspiracy.  _ Huh, he might actually care about Addams. Not that it matters, he’s still and opportunistic dickwad. _

Riley took a deep breath. “I forgive you,” she exhaled. 

Bertrand could not have looked more stunned if she’d revealed herself to be the Queen. “I... You never cease to surprise me, Lady Riley. You have my heartfelt gratitude and eternal loyalty.” He bowed to her, a hand on his heart.

“Thank you.” Riley’s face was still serious, but Drake thought he could detect the hint of a smile on her lips.

“I promise I shall do what I can to prove my worth.”

“I guess at least we know the truth.” Drake shrugged.

“Yes, and now that it’s clear this little revelation isn’t related to either of our blackmailers, I’m leaving. Hopefully the next lead I find will be more fruitful,” said Olivia.

“Olivia,” Riley took her hand, which made Olivia look down as if she were holding something gross, like a toad, “we couldn’t have done this without you.”

Riley glanced at him meaningfully. “You were actually... helpful,” Drake said through gritted teeth.

“Don’t make much of it.” Olivia yanked her hand back. “We’re allies of convenience.”

“We’re still allies,” said Riley, smiling fully now. 

“Yeah, we are,” she admitted, returning the smile.

_ Ahhh! My eyes! _ He didn’t think he’d ever seen Olivia smile before. It was surreal.

“I think it’s best if I also take my leave now,” said Bertrand, bowing and walking away more stiffly than usual.

_ I would guess the stick up his ass just grew more than a few inches. _

“I’ll take that tiramisu now. A lot of it,” said Maxwell. He looked like he needed it. Drake put his arm around his shoulders, feeling guilty for having yelled at him and sorry that his family was such garbage. Now  _ that _ , he could understand.

“Let’s go get you the biggest tiramisu there have, buddy.”


End file.
